Nan of Avonlea
by Nan of Ingleside
Summary: Nan Blythe goes to teach in Avonlea for a year. Is she going to love the place as much as she loves her own hometown? Will IT love her back? And will she be able to keep her old friendships while making new ones?
1. Who's that girl?

Poor little Sally Davies! A day that could have been just another pleasant and eventful one of the numerous summer days had been turned into a distaster. The torment was even worse because it came unexpected- nothing had indicated that she would be reaved from the high mallows which she used to speak to and taken to the noisy, hustling and bustling railway station in White Sands, where masses of people kept bellowing, running and bumping into one another.

Sally was quite a special girl of seven- the mousiest one that had ever lived in Avonlea. She loved solitude. Sometimes she would even be called stuck- up, for she preferred the company of trees and flowers to that of those saucy, rambunctious girls from neighborhood. She just felt they had nothing in common… and violets made perfectly good listeners.

She could have predicted that, though. After all, her parents left her at home alone, with her older brother only. And Matt would just love to do anything to distress her. Matt was despicable.

This opinion was the only thing that somehow linked Sally with the rest of Avonlea's folks. Matthew Davies was twenty one and thought to be the most snappish and conceited lad in the country. What is more, he was still living with his parents; or, his father and stepmother to be accurate. Despite having no intention of getting married and chastening at least a little bit, he had a manner of importuning every pretty girl in his proximity. He was also considered to be, crudely, a pitiable eyesore.

"Stop wobbling, you crybaby. How on earth do you intend to go to school in September if you're such a cowder?" he said then, nudging her with his elbow. She felt her chin trembling, so she turned her head away. He knew how to give it to her. School was due in one week only and she hated the very thought of it.

"Leave the little one alone," said a low voice in a tranquil, but firm way. "Have you forgotten how _we _loathed school?"

Sally managed to conquer the obtrusive tears that were urging her eyes and even smiled a little bit under her breath.

She liked Jack Wright much more than Matt. She could never understand why they ever became friends, as Jack was the utter opposite of her obnoxious brother. He was quiet, calm and good- natured, but there was something about him that made people- especially girls- realize the inner strength of him. And he was a pleasure to watch, indeed. However, the one flaw about him stated him in Avonlea's hierarchy not that much higher than Matthew. Jack was still living with his parents, as well, and had no intention of changing that state of things.

The three were at the platform, waiting for Jack's distant cousin who was to be staying with the Wrights for the whole of the following year. They had spent there two good quarters already and there was still no sign of the proper newcomer.

"We must have skipped her," said Matthew in an impatient voice. "The train is empty. Do you at least know what she looks like?"

Jack frowned a little bit.

"Not really. I haven't seen her for four years. The only thing that I remember is that she had brown hair."

Matt rolled his narrow, somewhat addle eyes.

Sally was not interested in their conversation whatsoever. She was busy contemplating how pleasant the platform actually came to look when the crowds disappeared. It was surrounded with verdancy- as if lush clumps of lilac were embracing it. She was familiar with everything and everyone around...

Or actually, not everyone. Sally took a deep breath when her sight stopped at an unknown figure in a long white dress, sitting calmly on a little wooden bench.

"Why," Matt put his hand on Jack's shoulder to stop him from turning away and going home. "Who's that girl?"

Jack narrowed his blue eyes, looking in the distance.

"Since there's no one else here and she's got a suitcase with her, I'm guessing she must be the one. But I remember her hair being a great deal fairer."

He set his face towards the stranger.

"Let's go. Come on, Sally," he encouraged with a smile. "Don't be scared."

As they were approaching her, Sally could discern more and more of the girl's looks. And so could Matthew. He suddenly stopped and squeezed Jack's arm to withhold him again.

"If this is the girl you're to live with for the next year…" he mighty thumped Jack's back. "Then, Jack Wright, you are one lucky man!"

* * *

She kept gazing at the wild cherry tree. She was absolutely sure that it was the one that her mother had once intended to sleep on, in case no one appeared to pick her up from the station.

Nan knew all the old stories connected with Avonlea by heart and she loved this one in particular. As a little girl she used to dream about sleeping on a blossoming cherry tree. Of course now, in the last week of August, it was not in bloom but… She wasn't Anne Shirley's daughter in vain. She had imagination, didn't she?

She had always loved Avonlea. Not as much as Glen St. Mary, naturally, but almost. And now she was to spend a year there, teaching in the local school. She could never have imagined a better place to start her grown-up, independent life. She had inherited so much of her parents that somehow she knew she would fit in. Places which Anne Shirley had filled with love would now surely give it back to her namesake.

She wasn't staying at Green Gables, which would seem the most natural thing to do. The house was simply brimful. Nan didn't mind it, though. Living under Aunt Diana's roof sounded just as wonderful.

Nan could not escape a little discrepancy in her feelings. She missed home terribly, of course she _did_- but she felt her yearning was not big enough to make her loyal to Ingleside. On the other hand, she just couldn't help being excited about what the year had in store for her. How could she not be? She had always wanted to follow her mother's footsteps and teach. Even though it was her father's decision that she and Di would wait one year before going to Redmond, she was more than eager to obey.

"One of them could be a writer… Or, a poet… No, a writer. Wouldn't it be _wonderful_ to be old and have a bookshelf with just one… alright, maybe _two_ books dedicated to me?"

Nan had a reputation for her daydreams, and she fell into one on the platform. Whenever she thought of her future pupils, she just couldn't help imagining what they might become.

"I would surely like at least one scientist… One could become a politician… But then, power corrupts people. And no doctors- poor little ones would wear themselves out to shadows."

The parade of celebrities made her skip numerous glances that were literally fired at her. Although surely aware of her own good looks, she certainly did not know how beautiful she looked, with her dark hair in a slight disorder and dreamy look in her eyes. She had no way of knowing how familiar and homely her beauty seemed to Avonlea's inhabitants due to the obvious and indeed striking similarity between her and her father. She did not hear the question that Avonlea's inhabitants kept asking themselves and one another.

"Who's that girl?"

Nan eventually came back to reality. Though her imagination and blithe nature didn't let her get bored at any time or place, not even a railway station, she felt subconsciously that quite a lot of time had passed.

"It seems that I'll fulfill the dream of sleeping on the tree anyway" thought she, and laughed her usual, carefree laugh; a laugh that definitely was not quiet enough for someone sitting alone on a bench at a railway station.

And at that moment she suddenly realized- much to her own surprise- that she was not alone anymore. She didn't pay much attention to the young men who had approached her, though- she was smiling warmly at the little girl skulking behind them.

* * *

Sally suddenly found herself exhilarated. Jack's cousin was sitting next to him on the front of the chaise, but she kept looking back over her shoulder and smiling likeably. She did not say a word, though, as if she knew that Sally should rather be the one to start the conversation. But Sally did not want that. She preferred sitting still and quiet and just looking at Miss Blythe. She had never met anyone like her before.

Miss Blythe was not high; as a matter of fact, she was rather short for a woman of seventeen, but she had a shapely, slender figure. And she was beautiful, very beautiful- with the kind of beauty that could overawe. But Miss Blythe also happened to be very similar to a naiad that Sally had once seen- in her imagination, of course.

She would have loved to tell Miss Blythe about it- something was telling her she would have enjoyed the compliment- but… she just couldn't. There was something about Miss Blythe's bearing… About the way she held her head, so high… And this certain something made Sally abate.

Instead, she had to listen to Matt's mindless prattle. He kept bothering Miss Blythe all the time and for Sally it was a torture. She felt ashamed… Ashamed more than ever, especially when she caught glimpses of Miss Blythe's eyes. Even Jack's face turned red when he called Avonlea "a backwater place where nothing ever happens."

"Why, mister Davies," said Miss Blythe, and her voice sounded a little sharp. "I see your point. But isn't it just the most precious, little backwater town?" She turned around and winked at Sally, gracefully leaning her head sideway. The girl looked at her playful smile, surprised to see her so impish. "What do _you_ think, Sally?"

Sally was only capable of uttering a pathetic little stutter. When Matt miffed scornfully, she felt her eyes fill with tears.

But Miss Blythe certainly did not want her to cry. She looked around with apparent delight. Eventually her eyes stopped on the rose garden of Mrs. Sloane.

"And I'm fairly sure there are a lot of fairies around here."

Sally jumped a little bit and spoke before her apprehensiveness could stop her.

"Oh, yes! There are tons of them!"

Miss Blythe started laughing, but Sally didn't feel offended at all. Somehow she just knew Miss Blythe was not laughing in the _wrong_ way.

"Well, if there are tons, then your gardens must be really abundant in them. I mean, one single fairy does not weight much… or does it, mister Davies?" she suddenly adressed Matt, who had been casting his eyes from his sister to the newcomer with disbelief painted on his face with zesty colors.

Thus far tight- lipped Jack laughed quietly and withheld the two horses. Sally didn't realize they had reached their house already. She saw her parents' chaise in the yard, but she didn't jump off their break and dash to the house, as she would normally do. She wanted to spend as much time with Miss Blythe as possible.

"I'm going to teach you how many fairies build up a tone", the latter said now, gently squeezing Sally's hand.

The girl goggled.

"Teach me?"

"Yes, I believe you're big enough to go to school, right? I'll meet you there soon, honey."

Sally jumped off the chaise, feeling her exhilaration grow by leaps and bounds. Miss Blythe was a _teacher_! If there was anything that could turn her mood around and make her enjoy the day… it had just happened!

Miss Blythe and Jack laid their heads back down to greet her father, who had just come over. He lifted Sally, kissed her chubby cheek and paid the departing break an amazed look.

"Who's that girl?" asked he.


	2. Jack Wright is surprised

What bewildered him was that they did not talk. They had never had much contact with each other, that was true. Even though their mothers had kept in touch all these years and the Ingleside children visited Avonlea every summer, somehow they would not spend much time together. But Jack knew very well that just as the rest of her siblings, apart from the youngest son maybe, Nan had inherited her mother's gift of gab. Yet, she did not utter a word for long. She was just looking around, wide- eyed and he found the situation rather awkward. The whole route between White Sands and Lone Willow Farm in ultimate silence?

Apparently, Nan was not sharing this opinion, for it wasn't until they had rounded a curve in the road and found themselves in the Avenue when she finally let out a sound. A little sigh.

"And how can he call Avonlea a jerkwater town? Is that man blind?"

Jack jumped on his seat, surprised by the sudden break in the silence. He tightened the reins around his hands to withhold the startled horse.

"Whoa, easy there!" he had to stand up to calm the animal. Then he shot the girl a glance... and hastily turned his head back when she caught it. He felt warmth creeping up his cheeks- a herald of a blush, that curse of his that came in the most inappropriate moments. It was not that he was shy, not at all. He just did not have the turn of phrase. He never knew how to speak to girls, let alone a girl so unusual and taciturn.

But... Nan's eyes finally stopped wandering, she was now looking directly at him. And she was smiling politely.

"I guess you're quite tired," he stated flatly. "You probably can't wait to get there."

"Not that much," she surprised him yet again. "I really like traveling. And I love Avonlea's roads especially, because they are so _crooked_. I love bends in the road, my mother taught me that. I mean, you never know what is behind one, and I can never wait to find out. Although looking forward to things is half the pleasure of them, don't you think?"

My word! First she did not say a word, now she turned to pouring him with streams of words. And she was one fast speaker! What was she even asking about?

"Well, I... I suppose... I dunno," Jack wiped his forehead, felling quite dizzy.

Nan burst out laughing.

"My, I am so sorry. I'm such a babbler! I confused you, didn't I?"

"Well now... Yes. A little."

"I apologize. It happens to me a lot, sometimes I just can't help myself. I really am sorry, Jack. Can... Can I call you that?"

Jack smiled contentedly and sat down again, finally feeling at ease.

"Of course you can. What else would you call me?"

Nan tilted her head in a playful move, of which he had already had a taste.

"Well I... I suppose... I dunno," said she and winked at him jubilantly.

Jack laughed quietly. She was so willful... she was nothing he had expected her to be. For a growler like him it was quite surprising that someone's chatter not only did not bother, but also made him want to respond.

He did not manage to respond, though. He had let the buggy run too fast. The mare startled again and he had to struggle with her for a while.

"What the deuce?"

Nan lifted her hand to keep her airy, little hat in place. She was involuntary leaping on her seat and giggling gaily. Jack found this rather offending.

"I don't see what's so fu..."

The horse ran away, having been let go by the carman. Jack dropped the reinse, Nan gave out a loud squeek. Her hat flew and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

They speeded past other carriages and carts, Jack desperately trying to take control of the break and Nan laughing loudly, almost insanely. That laughter of hers made some of Avonlea's matrons cast the two somewhat reproachful looks.

When Jack finally stopped the chain, Nan put a serious look on her face.

"Jack Wright," said she, "you owe me a hat!"

Jack was panting thickly and yet he couldn't but laugh.

"I bet you're not enjoying the ride anymore," he said slyly, turning the buggy.

"Oh, I just can't wait to hide from you in my guest room!"

Jack sent her a probing look, then shook his head and started staring at the road.

"You won't have received the last letter mother sent you, I suppose," he said with slight disbelief.

"No, nothing... What was in that letter?" Nan's velvety, nut- brown eyes grew bigger. The sudden change of his disposition was enough for her perspicacity. Something was wrong.

It seemed to her that he hesitated for a while, as if picking his words.

"The guest room is occupied... for good. You'll be staying in Delia's old gable room."

"Why, that's even better! My room back home is in the attic, too," she spoke with readily apparent glee that would convince someone even more observant. But Jack was still frowning. "I don't mind Jack, I really _don't_. And who ruined my dream of staying in the guest room?" she tried to amuse him, but failed in the attempt.

He kept mum for a while before answering, again.

"Delia herself, with her girls."

Nan breathed in, with sudden understanding. Delia's memoir was quite an unusual one. Having graduated from Queen's as the only one of her siblings and one of the best students, she did _not _go on to Redmond but got married straightaway instead. By now, she has given births to two daughters, the first one being born nine months after the marriage precisely.

As much as Nan was prone to subliming her old, beloved Avonlea and would not let anyone run it down, she had to admit that people there had changed over the past few years. There were quite a few spinsters living there now. And they weren't those lovable, benevolent old maids that one could not help being fond of... No. It was a completely different breed; one that would spread malicious innuendos and poison others' happiness for the very reason of being deprived of it.

'Spiteful old cats' was her fathers denomination. A surprisingly adequate one.

The break turned and drove through a black, iron gate. They had reached their destination. Nan was frantically racking her brain to come up with something that would break the awkward silence.

"Well," she said, jumping off the chaise and looking back over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the house which started glimmering with numerous lights. "Then I guess that the name 'Lone Willow Farm' is not adequate anymore."

She smiled at Jack and finally received a feeble smirk. But as he wasn't looking at her- rather somewhere behind her back- she turned around to see what had really amused him.

And she fell into the strong embrace of soft, apple-pie-smelling arms of aunt Diana.


	3. Evening at Lone Willow Farm

"Oh, no. I'm not eating anything else," Nan said firmly, pushing her plate away.

Yet, she couldn't help a tempted look towards lemon cupcakes. Lovely, surely delicious little cakes with fair share of cream, covered with crumbled meringues…

Aunt Diana caught a glimpse of that look and placed two muffins on Nan's plate.

"Yes, you are. You've hardly eaten anything as yet."

Anything? She had already had a portion of soup, chicken with stuffing literally sunk in gravy, green peas, a piece of apple pie and orange mousse… twice as much as she would normally eat. Although Ceasar, Jack's dog- a beautiful, big Alsatian- helped her with the meat a little.

Aunt Diana had her rules. Surely Nan was hungry after such a long journey. Of course she was, why was she saying she's not? No, she would not have her seeing her room before she had had a proper meal. And no, they needn't wait for Uncle Fred. He'd join them later.

The three of them were sitting at the table in the kitchen of Lone Willow Farm. They had dining room there, naturally, but they had never liked using it. The kitchen was very homey with it's pink-white gingham curtains, dimmed lights and a basket full of pink sweetpeas on the table.

"Delia will soon come downstairs, too," Jack said, smirking at Nan, who was fishing out the meringue in the cream to eat it first. "Girls like to take their nap before supper."

Nan was not listening, though. She was too busy with the cupcake.

"This is delicious. Almost as good as the ones we have at home… Don't mind that 'almost', Aunty. You understand I _had to _add it. I have to be loyal to Susan!"

"Oh, I have tried Susan's cuisine, so I understand very well," Aunt Diana laughed before she spoke. Luckily, she had not lost that lovely, old habit of hers.

She was wonderful. Nan had never gotten to know her better, but the last hour spent in her company made her sure she was going to love her, almost as dearly as Mother.

Diana had grown to be bossy at times- with the dear bossiness which was also Susan's share. She would stuff everyone around with food; even Jack looked a bit tired of all those cookies she was feeding him with. She would make them 'wrap up nicely' even if the weather was good. She was a darling... A true darling, with the same lovely dimples which Nan's mother had always loved so much.

"You must be a good cook yourself, then," Jack was scratching the remnants of mousse off his glass cup with a teaspoon.

Nan shook her head and smiled quite sheepishly.

"Not really... I mean, of course, we have been taught... My sisters picked it up at once... But I'm hopeless at it, I can never get anything right. Even Susan has given up her hopes of curing me."

Aunt Diana laughed lightheartedly.

"You are more of your mother's daughter than you look for it, then."

Nan smiled contentedly. Now, _that_ was something good to hear.

"But I'm more stubborn than that, dear. I will have you cooking in no time, you'll see."

Nan ceased smiling immediately. She had hated those cooking lessons, to tell the truth.

"Albeit… You are similar to Anne, sweetie, when one looks at you for a while. Even with that perfect Blythe looks of yours. You speak like her, you move the way she does…"

"Yes, I… I have her 'airs', as the ladies in Glen would have it."

Aunt Diana bridled and snorted like an angry cat.

But before she could say what she thought of such a designation of her bosom friend , the door behind her back creaked and Nan turned around to greet the newcomer, whoever he would happen to be. She felt so at ease that she could hug a stranger.

The man standing on the threshold was not a stranger, though. He was quite well-known to her; tall and somewhat lanky, with murine hair and placid, gray- blue eyes. Uncle Fred.

"Is this our newest acquisition?" he asked, closing the door behind him. She smiled and stood up, a little wobbly. "My, Nan, you've grown!"

Nan laughed while being embraced.

"Have I, Uncle? Have I _really_? For I am certainly going to be the shortest one of our flock. I'm shorter than Di, Rilla is already almost as tall as I am, Shirley outgrew me long ago… He is going to be just as towering as Jem... or even Walter."

Diana clapped her hands.

"Do tell more. I just love listening to your family stories!"

Nan smiled.

"But what do you want to hear, Aunty?"

"Everything, girl. Everything," Diana put a plate for her husband on the table and retired to come back with a tureen.

Nan wriggled on the chair a bit. There was a lot to tell.

"Well… I don't know what to start with. There is so much going on right now… Only Di stayed at home, apart from Rilla, naturally. She is going to teach in Glen's Sunday School. She wanted to work somewhere else, she actually longed for the orphanage in Hopetown but Mother pleaded with her to stay in Ingleside when she found out I applied for work in Avonlea… And that I was employed!"

"Oh, it's no wonder you were," Uncle Fred nodded his head above his plate. His face was shrouded in a curtain of steam lingering from the soup, but something in his voice told her that he was smiling. "Your last name is the best recommendation you could have."

Nan smiled, but this time her smile was quite subdued**. **Although she had never admitted it, she had been hoping that Di would teach somewhere closer to her… In White Sands maybe? So that they could see each other from time to time. The twins had never had to part before- not for so long. And she was feeling the distance keenly, no matter how exhilarated she was.

She tried piercing the inside of her hands with her nails for fear of crying. She almost did so last night in her room, when Di came to sleep with her as if they were little girls again. They might have been as different as chalk and cheese, but Di was her closest friend, her companion- ever since she could remember. There was only one person in the whole wide world who was as close to Nan as her twin.

"Jem left for Redmond with me," she said a bit too gustily. But she was determined to keep herself together. And talking and thinking about that 'big' brother of hers was a sure way to do it. "He is beginning his medical course this year and was more than raring to go. You should have seen Dad's face when Jem announced that he wanted to be a doctor, Aunty. I thought he would swell with all that pride."

"I'm guessing Jem is his favorite now?" Aunt Diana laughed.

"Oh, no, Di's position is not endangered in any way. It could never be. She has too much of Mother's looks," Nan laughed a little. "She is also on special terms with Walter… He will be leaving for Lowbridge soon, for his second year of teaching."

"No jealousy on your part?" there was a certain shakiness in her voice that made Jack couldn't help but ask.

Aunt Diana looked black at him, both figuratively and literally, but Nan only shook her head.

"None. Why should there be? She's daddy's little girl, I'm mommy's. She's Walter's favorite sister, and I'm Jem's. Which," Nan's smirk was askew, "is manifested by my being called a Kitten- as opposed to Spider and Carrots that Rilla and Di have been christened with. Di's blood boils every time Jem speaks to her."

Jack laughed quietly.

"Why didn't _I_ get a younger sister? They seem like an awful lot of fun."

The door creaked again and Nan turned toward it rapidly, propelled by a sudden premonition. She gave out a little cry.

The door had been opened by a woman, who was cuddling a toddler with her one hand and slightly pushing another little girl with the other. But what made Nan cry was the fact that... it was Lady with the Mysterious Eyes.

She had that clear- cut ivory face, that beautiful Grecian nose, those jet- black hair which covered her back with a shiny cascade... But most importantly, she had those great, black, velvet eyes.

Of course, Nan was aware of the fact that she could not be the Lady- her childish daydream, which she had never quite gotten over. Nan was aware of the fact that she must have been Delia. But she was a spitting image! Except for one detail…

Jack and Uncle Fred kept gazing at Nan, just as surprised as the newcomer. Nan looked around, feeling awkward.

"Jack did not tell me that you were expecting another baby," she found a solution at last.

Delia laughed a little and let the child down.

"It's surprising he said _anything _to you, that growler," she came closer and kissed Nan's cheek. "I'm very happy you came. Something tells me we're going to have good time together."

Nan sat down again and discovered that the chair next to hers, previously empty, had been taken.

The older one of Delia's girls was what Mrs. Elliot would always say about Una Meredith- sweet, but not pretty. She was a rather flimsy child of delicate, swarthy skin. She wore her fine, murine hair in a long plait, and her dark blue eyes had a demure look about them that betrayed how wise beyond her age she was. She smiled at Nan and held out her little hand.

"I'm Sarah," she said solemnly; her hand was just as frail as Nan had expected it to be. Having received a stern look from her mother, she added in an embarrassed tone, "Aunt Anne."

Nan literally melted in a smile.

"Aunt _Anne_! Why, that's serious."

When Sarah sent her an unsteady gaze, she laughed.

"You don't have to call me that. How would you like calling me Nan?"

"She would probably love that, but she is going to call you Aunt," Delia cut in, "like a good girl should."

"At least make it Aunt Nan, and better yet- Aunty," Nan pleaded. "I'll be feeling terribly old every time she calls me Aunt," she cried with pretended horror.

On Delia's lap was a two-year old chubby version of herself, which giggled joyfully at Nan's mien. The child was indeed very pretty, with thick curls and black eyes and crimson cheeks. She held out her little roly-poly hand with dimples at the base of every little finger across the table and pinched Nan's palm. When Nan let out a surprised squeak, the little one chuckled, sending her a playful look.

"Oh, well… Emily says it's a pleasure to meet you," Delia smiled at her apologetically**. **"You were saying..?"

Nan winked a few times, so Jack answered in her stead.

"Then I guess, since you seem to live in a perfect symbiosis, that the youngest ones were left to their own company?" Delia was feeding Emily, eating herself and participating in the conversation vividly. Nan had never seen anyone so brisk and jaunty. But Delia's eyes were just as dreamy as Nan had remembered- and she was soon assured that they would be friends in no time.

" Not… exactly. Shirley is a pet of mine," a tender smile brightened Nan's face, "and Rilla… Rilla spends a lot of time with Walter. It is nothing strange, though. He is the only one of our brothers who doesn't derive some kind of pleasure from teasing younger sisters. But, enough of my chatter. I've been prattling for an hour or so. Now you tell me all about Avonlea… And Green Gables! I simply _must_ pay a visit tomorrow. How is Aunt Marilla?"

Sudden silence fell over the table.

"I'll go get your baggage," Jack mumbled, striding out.

Nan's nut-brown eyes grew bigger and darker with anxiety.

"Aunty?" she asked unsteadily.

Diana lifted from her chair.

"That would indeed be enough for today. You're tired, you need to go to bed."

"But Aunty, what…"

"This instant. Here, Jack will show you the way. And don't you dare to worry. Under my roof you are only allowed to sleep soundly. I had your bed made with Mrs. Lynde's quilt. Your mother used to say one may only have good dreams when covered with one."


	4. Green Gables' grief

It was a pleasant afternoon filled with sunshine. One of those late summer afternoons when everything seems to be more intense; when colors are richer and brighter than in any other time of the year. When flowers smell _so_ sweetly and when the sun is so generous as to leave freckles on young girls' cheeks.

Irrespective of the danger, Nan lifted her face to its warm rays. Before she closed her dazzled eyes, she had had them exposed to a gallore of beauty. Behind the serene, lucid waves of Barry's Pond, which her mother had rechristened so very felicitously, trunks of pines and birches were percolated with sunlight, their crowns adorned with gold and mint hems. Among the emerald carpet of grass, here and there, one could spot the rust of withering fern leaves and silver of gray mosses. And all that beauty, like an enchanted painting, was sunk in complete silence and empitness of air. Single chirps ringed at times, only to be muffled soon by a snug rustle of dry stalks in birds' nests.

Nan was sitting in a buggy, which was quite well known to her now, for during the past week they had made a lot of excursions. Her shoulder neighbored one of a great companion and three of her fingers were enlaced by a dainty, sunburned hand of a child. It was enough to make her beam with joy.

"Look up to the sky. It's not just blue, it's full to the brim with azure!" she exclaimed with fervent delight.

Delia looked up, just as chuffed as Nan, but more restrained and wistful in her bearing.

"It's the farewell of summer. He knows he has to go soon, but he wants us to long for him- and wait- so he tries to bewitch us with all that beauty."

"He?" Sarah's eyes wandered over her mother's face. "Is summer a man?"

"Yes, and a gentleman at that," Delia nodded her head with ultimate solemnity. She was the greatest source of fairytales for her two daughters- and since Nan had been there to come to her assistance, the fertile soil of Sarah's imagination was nourished even more frequently than before.

"He is tall," Nan narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice, as if that could help her see him, "and always dressed in white. He goes around barefoot. His hair is long, straight and fair... very much like ears of wheat..."

"And he wears a straw hat," Delia cut in.

Black eyes met the hazel ones and warm, intimate glances were exchanged. It wasn't the first time they had reached a harmony of the kind. They were already familiar to that feeling, yet they still cherished it. For Delia, it was a break in her somewhat lonely life, for she might have loved her family dearly- and love them she did!- but she had never had a bosom friend before. Some chums, surely- but never a kindred spirit like Nan. They would speak at the same time- and say the same things. They would laugh at stories that no one else understood and express thoughts they would not let out in different company for fear of being laughed at.

For Nan it had even more value. Delia's amity dragged her out of the depths of homesickness that sweeped her off her feet the first night, half of which she spent crying in her pillow and the other half calling herself names, among which 'goose' prevailed. Moreover, although Nan was a part of the Blythe- Meredith bunch, which took Glen St. Mary by storm, and was now, represented by Jerry, Faith and Jem, putting down roots in Kingsport, she wasn't _quite _as popular with the girls as she was with the boys. She knew they thought her stuck-up and proud. She didn't even mind it all that much, it wasn't that she held most of them in high esteem. But... They also thought her shallow and an airhead and _that _was like a red rag to a bull. She wasn't _stupid_, it was the one thing that she knew for sure about herself and that she _never _doubted. When she and Di took to facetious exchanges of repartees at times, the other girls could only turn their eyes from one twin to the other and blink in confusion. And yet, before Faith and Una arrived in Glen St. Mary, it was Nan who was forever in for some backbiting- she could feel it in her bones. And that hurt, too.

Jack, who was driving, shook his head a little. Nan sent him a frisky look. He wasn't as much after her own heart as his sister was, but... They hit it off too, on their very first day. To Nan, he was a wonderful combination of her two favorite brothers; just as protective and laughable as Jem, but with Shirley's quiet ways and reticence. He barely ever answered when she spoke to him, but, just as Shirley, he could really listen.

"Are you disgusted with our being childish, Wright?" she asked him, falling into their little routine of adressing each other with their last names.

"No, Blythe, I'm not," his answer was just as succinct as she had expected it to be.

"Then why do you sigh so much up there?"

He did not answer, he simply turned around and handed Emily, frolicsome and kicking about, over to her. To put the child on her lap, Nan had to let Sarah go and she soon jumped over the bench to sit with Jack in the front seat which he patted invitingly. 'Aunt Anne' took this swap with hardly concealed displeasure. Out of her two nieces, Sarah was her undeniable favorite; bright and sunny, but in an agreeable, tranquil way and endowed with imagination that equalled her mother's. Emily was a cutie pie... when she was asleep. Awake, she was a little, chubby hurricane. Spoiled rotten, as younger children often are.

Nan had observed that while Uncle Fred and Jack liked Sarah far more than her little sister- as she did herself- and Aunt Diana remained impartial, Delia was isolated in her unconditional love for her younger daughter. And it worried her that while she was a firm and demanding mother to Sarah, though very loving all the same, she mollycoddled Emily immensily and never chided her, even when she disobeyed her deliberately.

"Shouldn't he have a cape?" Sarah's voice broke Nan's reverie. She looked so natty in her dark blue little taffeta, a white straw hat covering her forehead, that Nan had to smile at her. "It's not _always _warm in July!"

"He has one. It's blue, but not as dark as your dresses, more like..." Nan's voice suddenly broke, for she had shades of other colors to focus on.

Busy with the chat, she did not realize they had already reached their destination- Green Gables. But it wasn't the only reason she did not spot it.

Ever since she could remember, the name of Green Gables was the most appropriate one for this place. The house was green- a faded, snug tinge of green. The numerous trees that surrounded it added to that picture. And now..!

It wasn't only that the trees had been cut off- and what a crime on that farm it was!- but the house had been painted _beige_. Nan jumped off the buggy, took a few unsteady steps and came to a halt, bewildered. But she was not destined to stay there for long.

"Why, Nan, you came at last!"

Hardly had she turned around when she felt her hand gripped in two strong, somewhat coarse ones and shaken vigorously. Uncle Davy.

"Pretty, ain't you!" he grinned, squashed her in an embrace and shook her hands again. Jack was observing her confusion with a smirk, but it was not Uncle Davy that baffled her. She liked him a lot; she had always had.

She just couldn't believe that this newfangled, empty place was Green Gables. Did Mother know about this?

Uncle Davy's laughter lured a boy, who suddenly popped up between him and Nan, and splattered her skirt with mud.

"Paul!" Uncle Davy's voice sounded sharp and the boy looked at her with an ocean of rue in his eyes.

"No, it's nothing... Nothing at all, barely a mark," Nan came to the rescue. Faint as it was, for she was still in shock, it worked.

"You see, Millie and I called him Paul because we hoped him to take his manners after Paul Irving. But he is a chip off the old block.\'

"Indeed, he is," Nan's smile widened a bit at last . Paul did not only bear striking physical resemblance to his father- he even had that single dimple in his cheek- but also answered to the picture of Uncle Davy's childish years, which Nan knew from her mother's stories. As soon as he realized she wasn't cross, he tossed his head and winked at her slyly.

His two older sisters, not similar to him or his father at all, appeared at the threshold. They were just as different as two sisters could be; it was the reason why she and Di had goten on so well with them as children.

The older one, Mary Dora, was now fifteen. Her second name, which she got after her aunt, seemed to have exerted an influence over her whole creature. She behaved and looked strikingly like her, though she was her dimmed version with her onyx, sleek tresses and lustrous gray eyes. She was tall and slim, with decided 'prunes and prisms' mouth that, according to her younger sister, were even more so ever since she was accepted at Queen's. She was to be leaving in a few days time. She greeted Nan, whom she had not seen for a long time, with all courtesy but very listlessly. It gave Nan a pang of being a stranger to her- and maybe to Green Gables as a whole.

Fortunately, at fourteen, Rachel had a different notion of proper greeting. She clasped Nan impulsively and kept smiling at her. She was a very pretty girl- prettier than her sister, even- with a sweet face, nut- brown eyes and thick waves of like- colored hair. She was slightly more plump than Mary; her dimples were almost as wonderful as Aunt Diana's. Her adorned, lavender silk dress was maybe a bit too festive for the occasion... And the way she spoke, putting emphasis on so many words, and _what_ she said reminded Nan of Baby Rilla. Especially when Rachel reavealed that she did not wish to go to Queen's and that she would be more than happy to be taught by Nan in Avonlea.

When Aunt Millie opened the kitchen door and released the smell of her famous cherry tarts, luring Emily, Sarah and Jack inside, Nan slipped away and climbed upstairs. The adjustments made downstairs, luckily not as disturbing as those made outside, had not reached the garret... as yet, at least. And Nan had a strong feeling she would find Aunt Marilla there.

When Aunt Diana told Nan gently that Marilla was bed-ridden and 'not well', Nan's eyes immediately filled with tears of anxiety and, for the most part, remorse. They had not visited her for such a long time... And her qualm overwhelmed her when she entered Mother's old room. Nan knew it very well- she had so often slept there with Di- but now, even though no furnitures had been added or taken away, the room seemed entirely different. Nan's heart cringed as she came to learn one of her first bitter lessons. Rooms- _places_- mirror the way their inhabitants feel. And this room, once so gay and merry, was now full of resigned sorrow.

Aunt Marilla was not asleep as she had assumed. She was awake- and she had been listening to the buzz that was getting in through a half- open window. When Nan approached her bed, she turned her head away a bit hastily. As if she was trying to hide something from her.

So Nan gave her time, turning away to take a chair for herself and sit next to the bed. She then simply leaned down and kissed Marilla's cheek. Her skin felt almost like paper.

She did not know what to say. In her thoughts she had already made dozens of promises- to pay visists as often as possible... everyday... to read and talk to her and to be silent when she needed that.

To be near her, when she felt as lonely as her lips, bitter and pursed, indicated she did.

* * *

_I know it's taking forever and not turning out any good... I'm very impatient to move on to my next story- or at least a further part of this one. but if I want to convey my message, I have to take my time. _

_Walter Blythe, thank you so much for the review! I'm always very happy for suggestions. I tried to answer to yours- it was very pertinent- but descriptions have never been my forte, so I'm sorry it's so meagre._


	5. Nan to Di, Anne to Diana

_Lone Willow Farm_

_Avonlea, P. E. I._

_Sunday, August 31st._

_Di- rest!_

_I finally found some time to write this letter. I got yours three days ago and I wanted to reply forthwith, but I simply couldn't. I had so many visits to pay and so many places to rediscover... Besides, I had to attend to Jack, for I was reading it aloud at the table and he laughed at it so much that he almost choked to death. You really should restrain that wit of yours!_

_I am now sitting in my room, alone and it's evening- that does not happen a lot for all the loveliness of this cubicle. It used to be Delia's and you can easily tell that. The wallpapers are pink- it's a faded shade of pink that you would love, Di- and so are all the lampshades. At dusks, everything here is sunk in a rosy glimmer. My bed is worthy of a princess with abundance of pillows, all coated in white satin and trimmed with crochet lace. There are sheer curtains of white tull in the window and a white escritoire under it. I have already arranged it, both the drawers and the top. That beautiful photograph of you occupies a place of honor- right next to the vase. And it has a very respectable neighborhood of Mother's picture._

_Delia's old, white library is full to the brim; every time I open its glass door I fear that all those books shall eject and bury me. Next to it, there is a quaint little armchair- although I'm not sure if it can be called an armchair. Ned brought it for Delia from one of his cruises. It looks just like a wooden bowl placed on a cylinder base, with a big, round cushion in it. Queer as it looks, it is the most comfortable seat that I have ever curled up in. Now you only have to add a decorative dressing table with a big, round mirror whose gilded frame is shaped into flowers and leaves and a white chest of drawers with gold handholds shaped alike- and you will know how I lodge. Doesn't it sound delicious?_

_Despite that, I usually spend evenings with Delia and the little ones in their guest room. They're occupying it for the time being, since Delia's Ned is at sea and she is expecting. It is a very beautiful chamber; or at least seems so under all those dolls scattered around. Girls' camp beds and the crib prepared for our little arrival make it just a tad crammed... But nevertheless, Delia's great, four-poster bed with velvet curtains and ebony china closet are as imposing as possible. And the cradle looks a treat with its white- blue, flounced upholstery. Aunt Diana has resolved that if Ned comes back before I will be going home and takes the four of them back to White Sands, I shall be moved to that room for good. And since her resolutions are as peremptory as Susan's... I just hope he won't make it on time._

_For our evenings are so delightful- we chat endlessly and, well, titter like two fribbles and poor Jack often has to come down- his room is next to mine, in the garret- to hush us. He won't admit it, but I think he likes that since he usually stays. He only leaves when he finds us at sewing- as he says, he hates it when we start our 'falbala twaddle' - and that is often the case. You know my love for sewing- I have a wickness for pretty things, I can't but admit it, but Rilla's old assertion about good manners and fine clothing **is** awfully true- and Delia has to do it since the baby is due for as soon as November. But I think she likes it just as much as I do myself since she has given me some really helpful advice on how to quilt furbelows ever so much faster. Since I arrived at Lone Willow Farm I have already trimmed my old, straw hat- you would not recognize it, were you to see it- and knitted a tiny-tiny nightcap for the baby. I chose plain white wool and only used some rainbow- hued skeins for the tassel as I wouldn't know what gender the baby is... Delia herself only uses blue because she's positive that it is a boy. 'I had no cravings before!' is her rationale. And Jack seems to fall in with it as Delia is merciless towards him and makes him run between the pantry and our room with fudges and cookies; she always has them with black tea with raspberry cordial. **Always**, Di. I have drunk cocoa, milk and honey, green and white tea- and she has never yielded to those, not even once!_

_I cook and bake a lot these days and, believe it or not, I **am **making progress, especially at the latter. Aunt Diana is a hard- bitten, but patient teacher. She doesn't wrest utensils out of my hands like Susan did... Maybe that's why I find that cooking growing on me. I have made some really decent gingersnaps and shortbread... Cooked vegetable soup that was as thick and creamy as it ought to be... Aunt Diana said that with some practice I will be making as splendid lettuce salad as hers... And Jack **devoured** my chocolate caramels. But, of course, I couldn't escape a little jam._

_My very first recipe were oatmeal cookies with cocoa, raisins and almonds- a cinch, really. But somehow I got proportions confused- and I added spoonfuls of delicacies and only a teaspoon of flour. When I took them out of the oven, with a little homey crowd of spectators behind my back, I felt **mortified **because they looked terrible; shapeless clods, brown with all that cocoa, with spikes of almonds sticking out pitifully. I wished to sink into the ground somehow, especially when I saw the apprehensive look on Uncle Fred's face. He knew he would be the one to eat them. Luckily, we had Sarah and her imagination there._

_"They look like little hedgehogs... With very dark fur," she said._

_I **had to **laugh, Di, if only you could see her- so polite and mindful of my feelings! And Jack simply stretched out his hand, grabbed one of those slovens and munched it. And, all in all, I ended up inventing a whole new recipe. And since girls always insist on taking some of these in our picnic hamper... I enclosed it in this letter for Susan._

_I am happy here, Di- so much more than I expected on that first day when I was sobbing into the phone. The only trouble is that you are not with me. You would love it here- I always think about it when we take our trips to White Sands and stroll on the beach. I'm glad I did not listen to you, though, and took that white blouse with dark- blue sailor collar. It suits my new accordion skirt- a delightful thing of soft, dark-blue cotton. It seems to be all the rage around here; I have seen some girls wearing very similar apparels and overheard them gossiping about me. I had no faintest idea who they were- but they knew I was the new Avonlea teacher- and they called me 'in vouge'. That's an eulogy for me!_

_I **should** go to bed and get a good night's rest. School starts tomorrow and I don't want to show up there with bags under my eyes. Although I have a strong misgiving that I will spend this night tossing and turning rather than sleeping. I can't wait to meet the fry- and at the same time I wish I didn't have to make the acquaintance of them as soon as tomorrow. Now at last I know how poor Aunt Phil feels._

_Don't fight with Rilla; she is a fizgig, yes, but she is no worse than we were at thirteen. And you know she can't bite back when you vex her, even jokingly. That's why she gets so sulky, I daresay. And don't you worry about Walter so much- I'm sure he's perfectly fine. He is not as robust as Jem- or Shirley, for that matter- but that's just the way he is. I'm sure he's not coming down with anything; you're just spending so much time with Susan that you started following in her footsteps. You wouldn't stuff poor Walter with castor oil now, would you? And, in any case, you have the best doctor of P. E. I. at your service._

_Keep your fingers crossed for me tomorrow, Di- and I'll keep mine crossed for you next Sunday._

_Your very own twin,_

_Nan._

_P.S. Please, remember what I told you on the phone. I don't want to **judge **Mother and it's not on for me- or any one of us- to give her orders... But she should visit Aunt Marilla. We have been visiting her earlier every now and then, haven't we? Now, with us busy at Queen's, Jem at Redmond and Walter teaching it would be hard to expect us to come frequently, but still... It has been a year since Mother last visited- and a year since Mrs Lynde passed away. Aunt Marilla wouldn't complain, of course. But I can see that she longs to see Mother._

_But don't press, Di. Maybe something happened- something Mother did not tell us about. And I am anxious to touch a sore point._

* * *

_Ingleside_

_Glen St. Mary, P. E. I._

_Thursday, September 4th._

_Dearest of Dianas!_

_I only have time to write those few brief words, for my Di is about to leave for the post with a letter she wrote to Nan- and I am even more ashamed when I see how voluminous her envelope looks._

_But I have no words that would stand up for me anyhow. I heard reproof in your voice, Diana, when we last spoke. And I don't blame you for it- I could not. But you don't know everything, dearest._

_Walter is sick. Gilbert suspects typhoid fever. And that boy won't leave his position in Lowbridge. I can't impose anything on him, but I feel I have to be here... no matter how much I would like to see Marilla. My heart is torn- but what do I do?_

_You are a mother, too, Diana. You do understand me, don't you?_

_Oh, please, try to! I can't bear the thought of you- and Marilla- regarding me vile enough to turn my back on her._

_And thank you for taking such good care of my Nan. She always sounds so jolly on the phone... And Nan never pretends to be happy. Also, please, don't tell her anything. I don't want that joy of hers spoiled._

_Your very own,_

_Anne._


	6. Another full fledged schoolma'am

Despite her misgivings, Nan slept soundly through the night and woke up all bright and breezy. She had a hearty breakfast; so hearty that she felt a strong urge to check up on her personage in the hallway mirror. But no, luckily, her ivory silk was _still_ as well- fitting as she could wish. And who could refuse Aunt Diana's pancakes? They all ate heaps of them.

Nan then peeped into their big hamper to count the monkey- face cookies in it. Two days before she had scrounged the recipe from Susan over the phone. And though Jack had assured her that they were 'cracking' Nan wasn't utterly happy with them. Her fingers weren't as nimble with the spoon as they were with the needle, so the monkeys were a somewhat disfigured bunch with uneven eyes and clumsy ears. But both Sarah and Emily had marveled at them and Nan finally resolved that, in the worst case, she could use them as a lesson for her flock.

"Beauty is only skin- deep," she said, catching pawky sparkles in Delia's eyes.

"I shall look for my old recipe for piglet- face buns," Aunt Diana promised, sending her daughter a stern look, which only caused the latter to laugh more openly. "They are much easier to make and just as tasty."

Nan highly doubted that- nothing could ever match Susan's monkeys- but she smiled at her aunt with gratitude. Then she snatched the newspaper out of Uncle Fred's hands, as soon as she saw he was done with it. She did that every morning and none of the Wrights, not even Delia, could fathom what would make her skip Avonlea's Notes for those boring overseas bulletins. But she seemed genuinely drawn to them; while reading she was lost for the world and her velvety, demure eyes suddenly turned shrewd, flicking from one notice to another.

This morning, however, Nan's eyes were at first a bit anxious- then they turned incredulous, when she shook her head and tossed the newspaper away.

"Do you want me to give you a lift to the school?" Jack asked, observing Nan's frown.

His voice brought her back to earth. She suddenly realized that she only had time to sip the remainder of her Postum. She declined his offer. She needed to take a walk, alone.

She kissed the crest of Sarah's head and Emily's full cheek and set off, escorted by wishes of good luck.

"I'll pick you up in the afternoon!" Jack called after her.

The distance between Lone Willow Farm and Avonlea's school was a rather long one. Nan covered it with stormy eyes set on the dust of the road. It made her skip some acquaintances of hers, including two elderly Miss Pyes, and garnered her an opinion of a haughty damsel_._..

Of course, had Miss Josie greeted Nan first, she would have received an answer with a smile that would go beyond the usual politeness- for Nan, like her mother, found the virulent Miss Josie thoroughly amusing. But Miss Josie did not think it _apposite_**.**

"Just as proud and cocky as her mother," she said to her sister Gertie.

Nan was blissfully unaware of the whole mishap. She was still thinking about that disquieting column in the paper.

A Baghdad- Berlin railway! My word, what reason is it to start a war? It was only in August, when news of the truce in Balkans broke out, which brought her so much relief, and now, as early as that, they start their doomsday scenarios once again. And who is that Paleologue even to suggest such a thing?

It was a fortnight before her departure from Ingleside, when they had been debating about it with Jem and Faith and Jerry Merediths. Jerry was arguing that the Balkan conflicts were a clear giveaway that a world war was imminent. How triumphantly did she show him a paper with contradictory news, how angry he got when Faith asked him, laughingly, how much time exactly had he spent at the Douglases' house that summer! And how he would now gloat over this!

Though… She wasn't enitrely sure about that. Jerry was far too serious- far too mature- to gloat over such a thing. When told about the peace treaty, he only said,

"For once, I'm glad to stand corrected in an altercation with you, Nan," causing her to blush a little, feeling puerile over her triumphant voice.

Nan would quite often blush in Jerry's presence those days. They had been best of friends since forever, though those who had not played with them in the Rainbow Valley could doubt that, seeing them forever bickering and teasing each other. But Blythes and Merediths were never bothered by them arguing. It was just the way they were and they seemed perfectly happy left to their own company, when they could jangle to their hearts' content.

It was what Nan liked about Jerry so much- that he treated her her like a partner in serious discussion, unlike most of the lads she knew, who only saw her sweet smile and big eyes. It was partially her own fault, for Nan had a _very _flirtatious manner- her father used to laugh that it was a Gillis streak she took after her grandmother- and with her blithe, gleeful disposition she was naturally, alongside Faith Meredith, the darling of Glen's boys. But when she was with Jerry, her coquettish ways never spoke. She would talk of the outside events, books, prove her points- and, to her, nothing could match the joy of out- telling the top- class student of Redmond University. Jerry had a turn of phrase which made every second of those miffs somehow... exciting. She would _wait _for his retorts. He was also one of the few people who could get the better of her or bring her round. He had taught her a good few lessons, but never acted patronizingly towards her.

Nan turned from the main road, stopped and sighed quietly. She wasn't thinking about Jerry Meredith anymore, she wasn't even thinking about the war. Who could be foolish enough to declare wars when the world was so beautiful?

The old Birch Path had been forgotten for some time. The older trees, not once pruned, had grown incredibly tall. Their crowns had blended into a ceiling of verdancy. Two rows of smaller, self- spreading birches seemed to add walls to it- and the final part of Nan's walk to school was like a stroll in a long, green gallery.

When she entered the classroom, her eyes were starry- her gait light and dancy- her lips curled in a dreamy smile. The Avonlea children, who had been trained to stay in their places at the teacher's arrival for generations now, confronted their new teacher in prim rows of 'shining morning faces', though their eyes seemed a little confused. That Miss Blythe was nothing they had expected. The previous teacher, Miss Olivia Sloane, looked nothing like her. For starters, she never smiled.

Nan, facing some difficulties with coming back from the fairyland, looked around her curiously. She did not know her students, but she had already gotten so many accounts from Mother and Aunt Diana that she could pull a few guesses. No Pyes for her! This, however, was made up for by an outstanding number of little Sloanes. Their round, blue eyes were gazing at her from every second desk.

There was Charlotte Sloane- named after her father Charles. Mother hadn't told Nan much about them, and Dad seemed to be refraining from laughter when she tried to dig a little deeper. Now, all of a sudden, Nan felt a strong sensation of antipathy that surprised and frightened her. She reprimanded herself instantly. There was nothing not to like about that stout, lividly pale girl. Her eyes were googly- and filled with what Nan identified as _fawning_. A queer little thrill went over her... And it was not a pleasant one.

A funny, roly- poly, dimpled thing with quite protruding ears peeping out of masses of dark brown hair must, Nan thought, be Abigail Macpherson, the youngest daughter of Avonlea's parson. She seemed just as merry and affable as her father; Rev. Moody Spurgeon Macpherson was Mother's old school friend. There was nothing about _him _that would make Mother purse her lips indignantly. He asked Nan to join the church choir the first time he spoke to her. She took to him instantly- and so she did to this jolly, smaller copy of him.

At a corner desk she saw Fred Wright... the third one in the family... A sturdy little chap that looked exactly like his father and grandfather. In front of him, there was Sally Davies- with her round, ruddy cheeks and sandy hair, looking more scared than ever. She was sitting with Kitty Blair, a saucy, resolute lass, who made an even bigger contrast to Sally due to her clothes. Nan's eyes, all too sensitive to omnifarious fashion- related matters, went from Kitty's pretty, lacy dress to Sally's simple, paned one; from Kitty's white pumps to Sally's heavy, brown boots. She promptly decided that teaching was not what her role in Avonlea would consist in.

In the middle row, crowded into one seat, were two certain little beauties. Probably the Gillis twins, Henrietta and Geraldine.

"Fancy those names!" Aunt Diana had wheezed scornfully that morning, greasing Nan's pancake with blueberry preserves.

"Indeed, Mother," Delia replied with a waggish smile. "How good it is that all of _our _names are so common and don't attract any attention!"

"Humph!" was Aunt Diana's only answer.

Girls violated the twin tradition in a very special way. Though their features were identically delicate and fine- a legacy from their mother, nee Priscilla Rogers- and they seemed to be of the same height and built, they looked nothing alike. Hetty, the younger one, had thick, flaxen curls and enormous, meek brown eyes which betrayed her gentle and sweet demeanor. Geri's eyes were just as huge, but they were sharp instead of soft- and as blue as the summer sky. Her hair was also thick and wavy, but ash brown and never, apart from occasions like this, as neatly brushed.

Girls' older brother, Jack Junior, occupied a desk in front of them. There was refinement in his features that made him similar to his sisters; he had eyes as blue as Geri's and his short-cut hair was as fair as Hetty's, but with a golden tint to it. None of the schoolboys would ever dare to call him a sissy, though; stalwart and tall, he was a chieftain of them all. His sunburnt hands may have well looked fragile with their long, slim fingers and lithe wrists, but they would deliver blows that had no match in that school- or in any other, as those who had the displeasure of being their targets, claimed. They were now holding something white and lacy, with a pink ribbon, strangely familiar...

"My hat!" were the first words that Nan had directed at the children.

Jack seemed confused- and maybe a bit stirred by that outburst.

"Yes- I saw you dropping it- and took it..."

"And you brought it here, you darling," Nan smiled. That smile together with that 'darling' gained her the hearts of her flock.

The day went by like a dream, as her mother would say. At noon, when all children gathered at the front stairs to eat together, which was a habit of yore already, Nan showed up with her basket. Monkeys were much appreciated- and praised- and laughed at- as a diversion in the kids' usual menu. Some of the girls requested a recipe and when Nan came back from her desk with it written down, she couldn't help the temptation to hide behind the half- closed door and just... check what they thought of her.

"She's swell," was Jack's brief opinion. He seemed to be just as succint as his older Wright namesake.

Sally wasn't brave enough to express how she doted on Miss Blythe after this first day, but she nodded her head vigorously, scattering brown and yellow crumbles of her monkey around.

"She lookth like a printheth," said Amy Bell, the benjamin of the fry.

Nan certainly felt like one, when she was walking towards the buggy, which was to take her home. Jack goggled and blushed a deep shade of red when he realized she wasn't bareheaded anymore. Nan started laughing impishly, but soon stopped; for when she climbed onto the front seat, she found the back one taken not only by Delia, but also by a certain young man, whom she had not seen for quite a long time... And had hoped to never see again.

Matthew Davies greeted her politely.

"Why, Miss Blythe... Did those pests tire you to death?"

"Well, I am alive, Mister Davies, aren't I?" she replied smoothly.

Delia covered her mouth with an open hand to hide a grin.

Nan was unusually silent all the way. Delia knew she had heaps of news and was more than eager to convey them. But she didn't get a chance to do so. Matt would talk on end- all the way back to Lone Willow Farm.

"I suppose the worst part of teaching is hiding what you think about some kids' meagre gifts," he said, glancing at Nan's furrowed forehead.

Nan said nothing- but her eyes spoke volumes for her opinion of _his _gifts. She jumped off the buggy and headed for home, without saying goodbye. She was glad Susan was not there to see her manners.

Delia followed her as fast as she could, choking with laughter. When they reached the porch and took their hats off, she noticed Nan's lips trembling peculiarly.

"How did you get along?" she asked before she could refrain herself. Instantly, she thought maybe she shouldn't have asked. Maybe there were different reasons for Nan's silence.

"I'm only sure of accomplishing one thing," Nan answered. "I taught little Morley Boulter how much 'one' is."

"How did you do that?" Delia asked expectantly, spotting sparkles in Nan's eyes.

"I told him he cannot take another monkey," Nan shrugged while answering.

Matt Davies' s only farewell was laughter- and he was sure that Miss Blythe was laughing at him. Partially, he was right. Delia and Nan did backbite him that afternoon and had a whale of a time underway.

However, he did not suspect that. He felt flattered. To him that laughter was a sign of affection. Affection, which Miss Blythe tried to hide and only talked about with Delia Spencer.

_Clearly_, that was the case.


	7. Glamour of autumn

September was a short and sweet month.

By the time the willow in the garden turned golden and the cherry trees in the orchard put on their loveliest ribbons of tawny red, Nan had already grown to think of Avonlea as home. She rediscovered all the old, lovely spots, every nook and cranny, and found them much changed. The apple tree that Dad had told Nan about did not bear fruit anymore; but the fallen tree with a cushion of moss was still there and she would sometimes come to sit on it and read her letters. Crystal Lake was drying up now, in autumn, but the birches encircling its remainder looked like wood- nymphs dancing around it; tall, slender, in airy raiments of yellow and green. Hester Gray's garden had blended into the forest- its stone dyke had collapsed- stonecrop was adorning the old paths- and the narcissi had to wade through lush grasses and weeds with much toil... But it was just as beautiful as it had used to be in its rugged beauty.

First Saturday of October was a fine, sunny day, though a bit chilly. Nan was convinced that life was the most splendid of all inventions... Everything had been going so nicely at school. The children were real darlings, if their behavior... or orthography... was not all perfect. There was no particular 'genius' standing out among them, but she could feel that they liked her- just as much as she liked them.

Geri Gillis was the chief urchin, getting into more scrapes than Faith Meredith had in her day. But a poke or a nudge from her brother would usually bring her into line.

"Oh, but I have to do that, teacher," Jack protested after Nan had expressed her disapproval of his methods. "I can't have her spoiled! "

Nevertheless, he was her blue- eyed boy. Such a manly, reliable and jolly little fellow. And not one bit taciturn, as she had suspected at the very beginning. They usually sauntered back from school together- and talked on end- and Nan would laugh heartily all the way.

Unfortunately for her, she lacked her mother's composure when it came to refraining from laughter in class, so she would cough a lot to disguise it. That was, however, until Sally Davies asked her fearfully,

"Miss Blythe... Is it true that persistent coughing is a sign of- of consumption?"

Sally did not know how funny she was with her slightly oversmart, yet timidly quiet voice and big words. But, on the other hand, she did not seem to put on any airs. That was just the way she was, apparently.

All of a sudden, Nan started wondering what Mr. Norman Douglas would say about her and she laughed aloud.

She cast aside her rakes, swung her hat at her arms and let the mild western wind cool her cheeks, flushed with strain. Her eyes met the royal crimson of the maples just behind their garden and she gasped.

"Isn't autumn wonderful?" she asked when Jack came to her, supposing she needed help with her pile of leaves.

"Well now, I guess it could be a bit less... leafy."

"Di loves autumn. She always says that when trees turn red, her hair does not stand out so much."

It was Jack's turn to laugh. And he made it so audible that Nan wouldn't have been surprised if Diana herself heard it back in Ingleside.

"She's real droll piece, that Di of yours. It's kind of a pity that you came here, instead," Jack said and Nan, not used to such playfulness from him, stared in surprise and rancor for a while, believing he meant his words. But then she caught his blue eyes- sparkling, just as Delia's when she was teasing Nan- and had to laugh again.

"You rascal!" she cried and stooped to pick up some leaves from the freshly raked lawn. Before Jack knew it, he had a handful of them behind his collar, and Nan was speeding towards the house, squeaking.

My, but Sally Davies was surprised to see her teacher being dragged into a heap of leaves and showered with them! And by whom- that quiet, good- tempered Jack Wright! Sally had never seen him so frolicsome… or _glad!_

"S- Sally" Nan stuttered, getting up and fishing a twig out of her messy bun. "What are you doing here?"

She then thought maybe she hadn't made herself too cordial.

"Let's get you inside, sweetie," she said, putting an arm over Sally's shoulder and heading for the house. She honestly intended to get _herself_ inside, too. For Sally had come with that horrible nuisance of a brother. And Nan felt she would not stomach him.

"There is an intercontinental parcel for you at the post office, Miss Blythe," Matthew said, peeking at her peculiarly.

"The Fords..?" Nan stopped, thinking out loud, regardless of his unawareness.

Persis Ford was now in Japan with her parents. Uncle Ford was writing a sequel to a book he had written a good few years before. It was Nan's favorite of all his books, save 'The Life Book of Captain Jim', of course.

"Come on, Sally. I'll make you a nice, warm cup of tea," she called herself to order, for in her head she had already began to dress herself in a kimono. "It's a long walk from Avonlea and it's quite windy. Although I have to say I don't quite mind that. I _love_ wind. It makes the world alive. What would autumn be without it?"

"Is autumn your favorite season?" Sally inquired curiously. She adored Miss Blythe and always felt she knew too little about her.

That meant floods of queries. Nan sometimes felt positively interrogated.

"You always ask such challenging questions," Nan said laughingly. "I don't think I could choose, there are so many things I love about each and every one of them."

There were so many things she loved about _life_!

She led Sally in and opened a cupboard in the kitchen, which revealed an abundance of colorful tea boxes. Sally blinked a few times.

"There, stand on this stool… Pick one for yourself and I'll try to throw something together… I'm afraid we don't have much to treat you with… I mean, I _did _make raisin pudding today…"

But Jack ate it all, she added in her thoughts. She had been prattling to hide an awoken grievance.

The reason she was home alone with Jack, Uncle Fred and the girls was a trying one. Aunt Diana and Delia had taken the buggy in the morning to go to Carmody and refused to take Nan with them.

"Someone has to get the men's dinner!" was Aunt Diana's decided response.

Nan did not mind the verdict- she just minded the delivery. Aunt Diana seemed somehow stern and Delia didn't even try to bring her round. Nan felt shamefaced at being so obtrusive. After all, for all their closeness, she was not a relative. They needed some time for themselves.

She understood that, but… It was a pang still.

"Here are some biscuits… And Delia's plum preserves! Now, with a good drink I may escape the disgrace of a skimpy treat. Have you made up your mind?"

But Sally was taking her time. Turning her head from one box to the other, she was so caught up that she did not even spot the side door opening.

Uncle Fred and Sarah came back from the Haunted Wood where they had been picking mushrooms. Sarah's eyes glimmered on seeing Sally. She had been longing for playmates; Nan wanted her to go to school but Delia firmly objected. So Sarah had settled for Nan's company. She would now call her 'Aunty Nannie' and even Delia had resigned herself to that name, since it seemed to suit Nan perfectly. But, however much heart Nan put into their tea parties and 'visits', Sarah needed other children to play with and Nan understood that.

She came over to where Sally was slightly wavering on the stool; no hesitation, no shyness even. All delight- and anticipation.

And Sally would not rush, not noticing the newcomers. Sarah looked at her expectantly for a while… for two…

"The one in the red box is from India- Dad brought it for us," she ejaculated at last.

Sally shrieked and fell off her stool. She turned around and stared at Sarah, who was still smiling affably, with certain consternation.

"I'll take the red one, then," she said, blushing.

Nan had an attack of that dreadful _consumption _yet again. She must have caught it from Uncle Fred for he was coughing even more desperately than she was.

They had their little feast. Delia's preserves were divine and the tea savory and warming. The girls took to each other immediately; Nan could tell that when Sarah asked Sally whether she would like to go to the barn and see the kittens. Sarah would not even let _Emily_ see the kittens- and she was a good older sister.

They ran off, giggling and chattering gaily. Nan and Uncle Fred were left in the kitchen to peel the mushrooms. Nan's share of them was no good, however, for she wasn't looking at them at all. Instead, she kept an eye on the two girls outside.

Sally was a rather short lassie; Sarah was almost her equal in height. Excessively thin, save the round, glowing cheeks that looked like two apples, she looked almost pimping in her simple, dark dress with a positively hideous pattern. She did not wear ribbons in her hair- her scarf had no tassels- and she seemed to notice that herself. Her eyes were piercing Sarah's pink gloves and her cap, trimmed with colorful beads.

"Uncle?" Nan broke the intimate silence which always fell upon the two of them when they were left to their own company. "I didn't have a chance to meet all of my pupils' parents as yet… What is Sally's mom like?"

Uncle Fred rubbed his slightly receding forehead.

"You missed a spot over there… I cannot tell you much about her. You should ask Delia, they used to be schoolmates."

Nan goggled a bit.

"They are peers?"

"No, I think Mabel was a few years older… And she was a plague! Every time she came by for tea, she had a new dress and Delia would later pester us mercilessly… She should tell you herself," he smiled at her.

But Nan did not want to ask Delia anything; Uncle Fred's word conjured up the image of Irene Howard to her- always surrounded by a circle of younger, infatuated girls. She started a little. She _detested_ Irene… Even Mary Vance was more agreeable.

Nan stood up from her chair and told Uncle Fred that she was heading for Green Gables.

"Again? But you only were there yesterday!"

"Yes, but a letter from Mother came today- and it's so long- and I should read it to Aunt Marilla. I know Mother would like that. Besides, visiting her is quite a challenge. I always make tea for her and the most favorable opinion so far was 'drinkable'. But I hope that one day she will like it- or maybe even teach me how she used to make hers!"

Nan had grown to genuinely enjoy visiting Aunt Marilla; after a week of certain awkwardness and silence, she let her wall come down at last and she was now almost the old, good Aunt Marilla- somewhat sarcastic and severe, but caring and wonderfully witty.

But what Nan was most happy about was that she wasn't so stridently sad or lonely anymore. Little Irving, as she was wont to call Paul, became a frequent visitor of the garret, though it was probably for the better that Marilla did not know what he kept in his pockets. Uncle Davy wasn't so busy anymore and sometimes kept them company, alongside Rachel who treated Nan as an authority in fashion and would come to discuss new dress patterns. She was also learning to weave and it was a great pleasure for Marilla to hear about her efforts with braiding rugs; her advice were invaluable. Aunt Millie brought in butter tarts and the garret was now a heated, sunny place.

Nan dashed through Avonlea as if her feet had wings. Mother's letter would cause such joy- and she could not wait to see it in Marilla's face.


	8. Nan's first proposal

"Oh, Nan, won't you _hurry_! Show yourself at last," Delia's voice sounded more impatient with every groan, so Nan stormed out of the bathroom, opened the door to her bedroom and stopped at the threshold, as lovely and trig as a hothouse rose.

Her eyes were aglow with expectation; her cheeks soft and blushing and her hair had been braided by Delia into a crown around her head. She was wearing a new dress of lovely wild- rose pink, a birthday gift from the Wrights.

She had been such a goose! That morning Nan woke up to find them gathered around her bed with a resplendent chocolate cake. Emily and Sarah pelted her with hand- made birthday cards; Aunt Diana with hugs and kisses and Delia handed over a big, white box.

"That's why we didn't take you to Carmody," she explained with a warm smile. "You silly! You've been worrying over that, haven't you?" Delia knew Nan all to well.

She now sighed, rising from the pillows of Nan's bed. Sarah gasped in wide- eyed admiration.

"Oh, Aunty Nannie, you look beautiful!"

Nan smiled and approached her bureau, which seemed buried beneath wrapping paper and undone sashes. Jack had kept all present from Ingleside hidden under his bed until her birthday. She was opening them and getting herself prepared for the dance that she was to attend in the old Avonlea Hall that night- with Jack. It was very fortunate that the twenty seventh of October befall on Saturday that year.

Nan digged out her favorite Coty perfume, 'Rose The'- Jem's nailing gift- and sprinkled some behind her ears. She then pulled out her hand to arrange an unruly streak of hair.

"No, don't!" Delia cried, rushing towards her. "Leave a single curl… There, like that. It's delightful."

Nan nodded her head in agreement.

"It's the only thing that I have inherited from Mother when it comes to looks," she said regretfully.

"You're as slender as she is," Delia remarked, glancing at her own altered silhouette in the mirror.

"But I'm not as tall," Nan couldn't help a little moan.

Delia examined her with an attentive eye.

"You have been growing. You should sew a frill on the hem of this dress. I can see now that it's a trifle too short."

"Do you really think so?" Nan ejaculated with a satisfied air. "It would be splendid… I have been feeling like a changeling among all those tall brothers and sisters. "

Delia passed over a hook for shoes buttoning; black slippers were Faith's gift, in turn, and an embodiment of prettiness.

"This hairdo _does _suit you, though. You won't have a free moment at that dance."

Nan usually wore her hair in a simple, finished bun. It wasn't the most becoming hairstyle, but it served a certain purpose; it was _teacherish_, putting years on Nan, who had always looked younger than her twin and peers, Una Meredith being the only exception to that rule.

Nan picked up a soft, flat package with Una's name on it, and hastily ripped it up. Inside, she found a scarf, a pair of gloves and a cap- all very neat, in the loveliest shade of light blue. Among the soft wool Nan came across a short note.

"Don't worry, Nan. You will look lovely. Best wishes, Una".

Nan laughed quietly. Una never spoke much, but in few brief words she always managed to touch hearts. Blue was Nan's favorite color, but she hardly ever wore it, as it was no good for her, much to her own dismay.

Jack knocked at the door and entered- Jack in a navy blue suit which went with his eyes and freshly trimmed, fair hair. Nan stared in surprise. She had always lived with the fact that Jack was good- looking, but it had never striked her before to such an extent. This black tie made him quite _dashing_.

But Nan only felt pride and some sisterly tenderness looking at him. He was like a brother to her, and there was no girl in the whole Prince Edward Island more used to handsome brothers than Nan.

"Shall we, Blythe?" Jack pulled out his arm, but Nan shook her head.

"I'm not sure… I don't have any good jewelry…"

Uncle and Aunt Ford had sent her a necklace, a diamond pendant on a silver chain. But their presents had always left Nan somewhat guilty. They were costly… Too costly. Of course, the Fords did not mean to intimidate her- but her pride suffered somehow. Perhaps Persis knew that, for she had also sent Nan some dandy haircombs with cherry blossoms on them- Delia had used them to steady Nan's tresses- and an airy, Japanese lantern. Ken's gift was much more agreeable, too- two modest gems were now adorning Nan's earlobes.

But the necklace seemed too ostentatious for the dance. Nan did not wish to stand out because of her _jewelry_.

She pulled out a little box from the heap on her davenport and opened it. Inside, she saw a tiny pink enamel pendant in a shape of a heart with a thread- like gold chain. The box had no signature- but there was something on the luster.

"With all good wishes from your old chum, G"

Nan blinked a few times in confusion, staring at the inscription. Delia, more used to such gifts, took the pendant out of Nan's hands, turned it around and gave it back.

"…erald."

Nan stared- then smiled gaily, her eyes twinkling. The Merediths had heard almost all of the Blythes family stories down in the Rainbow Valley- and the Blythes had learned a lot about the Maywater's chronicles- but Nan never expected any one of them to remember details like this.

How nice- how thoughtful- how _sweet_ of Jerry to do such a thing! She cast the chain around her neck doubtlessly and it soon snuggled itself in a hollow on Nan's neck. It didn't go with her dress or the eardrops too well, but it suited her happy eyes and flushed cheeks instead.

Uncle Fred drove them to the Avonlea Hall, which now looked much better due to the faded, pale blue walls. Years of heavy rains, blizzards and scorching summer months had done wonders to it; wonders which the most avid members of A.V.I.S. could not have predicted.

Nan was the gayest of the gay that night; her card was full- she did not sit out a single dance. She had the first one with Jack- then with Jake, son of Mr. St. Clair Donnel and older brother of her pupil, Anetta- then she resolved not to deny Matt Davies, though he stepped on her feet badly- then with Jake again. Jake was a very laughable fellow and Nan was enjoying herself immensly; enough not to notice Matt claiming two more dances on her card.

But she did not worry about that. Even if he bothered and annoyed her for some time, Jack and Jake and the rest of Avonlea's fry made up for that. The night was one to remember. They were all full to the lips with the simple, priceless joy of youth and life.

* * *

Nan was sitting alone on the porch, enjoying the quiet, velvety twilight. The Japanese lantern, which Jack had hung there in the morning, was giving off only a dimmed light; there were two last pieces of chocolate cake on the table in front of her and Delia was about to bring some raspberry tea.

Nan felt as snug as a bug in a rug. She was dressed in Aunt Diana's old gown- a queer, ruffled thing of blue- flowered satin, much too loose for her- and had a crocheted shawl wrapped around her. Delia, regardless of Nan's sore feet, had admonished a big laundry that morning and left her with no clothes of her own.

Nan had been pensive all day long, pondering upon the niceness of the previous evening. She laughed inwardly at Jake's tomfoolery all over again, smiled shyly just as when Jack had intoned a 'Happy Birthday' for her and cringed a little, when someone unexpectedly patted her shoulder.

"Why- Mister Davies- you startled me!"

Matt sat himself on a bench next to Nan. He was quite smartly dressed, and with any other man she would feel awkward for her apparel. But with him, she just wondered what this pest of a neighbor was doing at their house again. It was almost like Aunt Mary Maria all over again!

But she wished to remain hospitable, so she smiled at him.

"If you came to see Jack, you are a tad late, Mister Davies… He turned in right after supper. Poor fellow, how tired he was!"

"Were _you _tired, Miss Blythe?"

"Gracious me, no! I have all the stamina required for such events," Nan laughed jauntily.

"That's good, because… I came to see you, and not Jack," Matt moved in closer on the bench and Nan felt an involuntary shiver on her shoulders.

"I have decided to move out from my parents' house… And get something of my own. I came to… to ask what you think about that."

Nan stared at him blankly. She was at a loss to fathom why he would come to _her_ with that.

"That's certainly a good idea, Mister Davies," she stated flatly. Then she thought maybe if she was more encouraging, he would put away his doubts- and leave. "You would be fully independent. I suppose it might feel a bit lonely at times, after all these years in the company of family, but…"

"I don't expect to miss my family… Especially with one of my own. I would like to look for a house in Spencervale or White Sands and- and settle down."

"Well, then… I guess there are no objections."

"Not from me, that's for sure. And… from you, M- Miss Blythe?" his voice faltered and Nan turned her head a bit and looked at him for the first time.

"Whatever do you mean, Mister Davies?"

"I meant… Would you care to… Would you… t- take me?"

Nan fully intended to be patient, although the whole notion seemed quite importunate.

"Why, Mister Davies… I don't drive, so I could not possibly take you anywhere, I'm sorry. I suppose- I could help you go through the advertisements in the paper…" Nan imposed that civility on herself.

"_No_!" Matt cried desperately, starting from his seat and waving his hands, much to Nan's confusion- and amusement, for he hit the lantern a few times. She smiled, just a wee bit cattily.

"I meant… Would you have me… Would you do me the honour…"

Nan's smile broke- and she got up gustily, when she finally put two and two together.

"No, no… _No_..! Most certainly, I would not!" she cried before she could compose herself. "What gave you the idea that I would?"

Matt's face changed… She did not see hurt in his eyes after she spoke- only wrath and indignation. He flew at her with some unrefined words, still waving his hands with much vigor.

The Japanese lantern fell down, having received a few blows. Some sparks glimmered around Matt's back, but Nan could not see them clearly, for her eyes were beginning to water. When she wiped the tears off, his jacket was already in flames.

He tore it off his shoulders hastily and put the fire out with a few jumps. He then lifted his head and looked at Nan, who was shaking with shame and humiliation.

Just one more insult… and he was finally gone. Nan burst out crying and fled to her room, where she threw herself on the bed and hid her face in the pillows.

Delia came in without knocking and placed a tray with two cups on the davenport. She sat next to Nan on the bed and gently stroke her messy tresses.

When Nan finally got up, Delia said nothing. She waited for the raspberry tea to kick in and calm the fretful heart. She then dragged the story out of it, bit by bit. And, with much effort, she managed to keep a straight face.

She was livid, though.

"You should have Jack beat that wretch to the ground!"

But Nan shook her head- somewhat regretfully, it must be admitted.

" No, Delia… They are friends and it should not come between them. And besides… I should have been more delicate, I know I should have… But I was just so shocked!"

"Well, I have always known that Matt wasn't exactly Avonlea's most mealymouthed fellow… I would get confused, too. You needn't blame yourself, Nannie."

They sat in silence for a while; a good, reassuring silence. But Nan had a confession… and it was a shameful one… She lifted her head from Delia's shoulder.

"I feel like such a goose, Delia! I remember when I overheard Mother delivering one of her little sermons to Rilla… She told her, that proposals are only pleasant when you can accept them with a willing heart. And I thought _her_ sentimental… and _myself_ so emancipated and expected them to be flattering… Flattering! This! This was…" Nan stopped.

But when Delia did not look one bit indignant- an unexpected thought crossed Nan's mind.

"This was actually quite funny," she said at last and poor Delia could finally let herself laugh to her heart's content. And Nan soon echoed her.

"Oh, my, I have to write to Faith about all this!" Nan resolved, laying down in her cozy little bed. "She seemed so miserable and intimidated in her last letter… And this is _bound_ to cheer her up."

She chuckled herself to sleep.

* * *

_Author's Note: The underlined part is a direct quote from " Anne of Avonlea". _


	9. Into the sunlight

It was a night in early November, one of a very inclement weather. Despite a rather violent thunderstorm and streams of raindrops pelting their windows, Avonlea's houses all seemed asleep- quiet, dark and a bit gloomy. All but one.

Lone Willow Farm was all hustle and bustle. A kettle whistled stridently- then it was quickly taken away by Aunt Diana. Jack was putting the mare in and doctor Fletcher was already rushing headlong into the house. He almost bumped into Nan, pale and jittery, dandling Emily with trembling arms. She took the child upstairs and put her to sleep in her own bed, where Sarah had already dozed off. She covered Mrs. Lynde's quilt over with her warm shawl and hurried down.

"They're sleeping," she said quietly, slipping into the kitchen.

Jack was sitting at the table, drumming his fingers and warming himself up with tea. He only noticed Nan when she dropped into a chair next to him and started rocking in it absently. She found a cup prepared for her, too; but, however much honey had been put into it, it could not subdue Nan's perturbation. Uncle Fred had _cottonwool_ in his ears… Just as Susan at such times, she thought.

Only Aunt Diana was unshakable. She slammed a few cupboards, went down to the pantry and came back with eggs which she started cracking into a bowl.

"What _are_ you doing..?" Uncle Fred hastily plucked the white bundles out of his ears. Then a shamefaced look appeared on his face, as he added, in an apologetic voice, "…wife o mine?" He's been wont to call her so ever since he learned from Nan how Dr. Blythe would call his wife. 'Wife o his' would usually smile at him- but at this very moment she was perfectly listless.

"Doughnuts," she answered simply. "Delia told me this morning that she would love some doughnuts."

When disbelief replaced shame on his countenance, she threw her hands in the air.

"What else do you expect me to do? I've already seen Delia through it twice. And she is always as hungry as a wolf afterwards. Oh, Nan, won't you pull yourself up!" she suddenly exclaimed with a note of impatience in her voice. "Get up and make some icing."

Nan startled- but stood up immediately and put her pink apron on. She looked at Aunt Diana with surprise. She could not understand. How could Aunt Diana be so calm and unmoved- how could she be making _doughnuts_- when Delia was there, troubled by pain… And maybe…

Nan shook her head sorrowfully. Of course she had known this moment would come. She had been looking forward to it. She had been dreaming of little fists, clenching around her fingers and mellow, kissable little cheeks. But now that it had come… She was beside herself.

She could not bear to think that something might happen to Delia...

There was no particular reason to be worried, though. She had scrutinized the doctor thoroughly when he came in for a jiffy, to ask for some hot water, fearing that she might catch him shaking his head, like Father sometimes would… But he did not. He just patted Uncle Fred's shoulder, smiled and left promptly.

With a generous hand, she poured water into the bowl and started grinding. When she asked Aunt Diana for a lemon, she noticed that it was handed over with a shaking hand- and that there was a quirk to her perky smile. She could now see that Aunt Diana's brave front was cracking up; she had never chopped the candied lemon skin into such uneven pieces.

Nan clasped her godmother's shoulders impulsively. Calm and unmoved, indeed! Doughnuts, that's what! What a duck Aunt Diana was!

"I'll do that. Sit down, Aunty. Sit down, I say. Jack, bring me strawberry preserves from the pantry," Nan suddenly put on her teacher voice. She fixed the straps of her apron, previously rather dowdily tied.

Hours went by- rain poured on- and Nan kept stirring, rolling and moulding. She had to peek at the cookbook very often. Aunt Diana was sitting close to Uncle Fred, holding his hand, and did not say a word. But Jack helped her a good deal; and finally, when she was closing the oven's door behind her very first batch of donuts, the dawn broke. Silvery gray fogs embraced the world outside.

They both dropped onto the wooden kitchen bench. Nan leaned her head and put it on Jack's shoulder. The kitchen was beginning to smell of baking dough… Aunt Diana sighed a few times… Jack stretched languidly… Nan felt her eyes close…

The door was flung open. Sarah rambled in, bending under the burden of Emily, who was clinging to her. They were both in their yellow sleeping gowns- and Sarah had wrapped Emily in a shawl. A good sister as she was, she now handed her over to Jack, climbed on Nan's lap and curled up on her gingham apron.

They waited- and waited- and it seemed that it would never end.

* * *

Doctor Fletcher's gait had become very quiet and light through years of practice, despite his slightly excessive weight. He entered the kitchen, closed the door behind him and smiled at a group of people- so close to one another and sleeping so soundly at the kitchen table, in the lingering smell of… what was that?

He opened the oven and took the plate out. Doughnuts! He glanced at the sleeping, then at the door. The patient needed some time to rest before they would be allowed to enter.

He helped himself to one. As the warm strawberry preserves were melting on his palate, a little cry was given. A cry of a baby.

One of the girls lifted her head immediately- and soon a little crowd was speeding past him. It was for the better that they gave no heed to him, for he was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a half- eaten doughnut in his hand.

They ran at first- then they stopped at the threshold. Jack was holding Emily in his arms- Sarah was squeezing Nan's hand- and they entered first, in a solemn silence.

Delia was sitting straight in her bed; pale and jiggered, but with motherly fire in her eyes and a smile more beautiful than any other Nan had ever seen on her face. In her arms there was a blue little bundle. Emily started to whimper and wriggle, with an infallible intuition of a younger child becoming the middle one.

The rest of them leaned over to look at a wee, red face with very few wrinkles and a halo of fair, downy curls around it; Uncle Fred's eyes were misty and Aunt Diana was sobbing quite openly. Nan did not- she could not. She smiled jubilantly and when her patting finger was held in a tight grip, she was surprised she did not burst. How could such a dot fill her with such an ocean of tenderness? She was so full of it that it should have come spilling out.

"Let me introduce… young mister Thomas Spencer," Delia whispered quite faintly. "Thomas Jack. The first name after Ned's father. And the second… after a distant cousin of mine," She sent Jack her usual impish look. He was still struggling with Emily- but grinned with pride; especially when he looked at his nephew to find him a spitting image of none other than himself.

"I was just putting him to pieces," Delia said lovingly. "There wasn't much to discern, though. It's Jack all over again. But he has Dad's ears... And Mother, look, aren't those your dimples?"

"And... I know it's ridiculous and impossible... But, Nan, I think he has your mouth. Don't you think?"

Nan didn't find it so, not in the least. But she nodded nevertheless; she knew young mothers were not to be questioned. And, perhaps, they _did_ know best?

"Would you like to hold him?" Delia now turned to Sarah and Nan stepped back to make some room for them. She went to the window, pulled up the curtain- and, for the first time in more than a week, the sun sent them a gleam. She basked in it for a while.

"Now, is this doughnuts I smell?" Delia asked in a complacent tone.

Nan turned around gustily and started for the kitchen- but at the door she met doctor Fletcher with a full plate in his hands and traces of strawberry jam on his beard.

"It is," he said beamingly.

* * *

_thank you for your lovely reviews. special thanks to Walter Blythe here- as I can't write a PM to you. thank you a hundred times for all of your support. :) but I am very grateful for **all** of them of course- they are a great motivation and an even greater joy. :)_

_I'm not pleased with the result at all, though, and shall probably rewrite this story some time. I'm afraid I'm slightly rushing- there's just one chapter of relative steadiness- I wanted 10 chapters as a kind of an introduction- and then I want to bring in more action and it may turn out a bit rapid. but I can't help it- I just want to move on to "Under the burning sky"- badly! plus, my univ is keeping my nose to the grindstone._


	10. Avonlea Notes and other matters

Nan lifted her eyes from the pages of 'Persuasion', stiffened a little, and put the book aside, on her mother's old, white desk.

Rachel, at her needle, did not even notice, too busy to pay heed to Jane Austen. But Aunt Marilla turned her rather surprised eyes at Nan.

"Why did you stop?"

Nan shrugged her shoulders.

"You weren't listening."

She did not mean for her voice to sound so upset. But it ringed with a high, false tone of someone who had spent the last half hour reading aloud, numbing her neck and torturing a throat that was sore with teaching even beforehand. And apparently it was all in vain.

Aunt Marilla leaned her head down to flick some invisible crumbles off her quilt and Nan could swear that she was hiding a smirk.

"Are you angry?" Marilla asked suddenly and Nan flinched.

"I am not," she failed to control her tone again.

Marilla now smiled openly.

"You could have stamped your foot, too."

She lay her head on her pillow and smiled complacently.

"Don't mind me, Nan, but… If you really want to… entertain me, maybe try doing something I would enjoy?"

Nan did not say a word. She knew there was more to come.

"I am sure this book is a great read… for young girls like you, with that noble pursuit that most of you seem to have these days, to study and work and… What did Mary call it the other day? Ah, 'make your own name', isn't that right?" she waited for Nan to nod in acquiescence. "That's all very well, but… I am ninety- three years old and I suppose my name has been made already. So this book is all but abstract to me."

Nan opened her mouth with a whistle, ready to talk back. But then she bit her lip like someone caught red- handed, as a flush was crawling up her cheeks.

She had come with one of her own favorite books; the truth being that she wanted to read it just one more time before writing back to Faith Meredith who had sought her advice in an argument with Jerry.

"_You have more experience," _she persuaded in her funny, brash way._ "My, but I do wish you were here! You seem to be the only person who can get my brother to shut his mouth for at least half a minute." _

She should have done this back at home, in her little pink room. But with all those mid- semester dictations and geometry assignments to mark, she just didn't have the time. She had wanted to kill two birds with one stone… And all she ended up killing was Aunt Marilla's afternoon.

But that wasn't all, more's the pity! What she was mostly ashamed of was that she had expected Aunt Marilla to be grateful. Yes, _grateful_ for Nan's time and attention!

Mary Vance was right after all when she called her a coxcomb!

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Nan asked, hoping that the bitter pill of Mary Vance's being right would be more palatable with other words.

"I didn't want to be unmannerly. And besides, I do enjoy your reading to me. I just think we could find something more truthful and interesting there," she waved her hand towards a pile of letters and sheets of paper which Nan had put on the desk.

At first Nan hesitated; she had already read to Marilla a letter from Jem and the long, collective one from Ingleside. The other was from Ken Ford and an awfully nice one; Kan had a knack for writing and Nan often wondered whether it was a heritage from his father- as Persis had the very same deft, buoyant way with words- or whether it stemmed from the fact that Ken was quite the ladies man and left all girls around him swooning with as much as a salutation. The fact that he did it consciously, was another pair of shoes.

But she had always been insusceptible. She took quite a hammering as a child. Ken was two years older than she and Di and before Persis arrived and grew big enough to be nudged and pushed, he settled for the twins. Di, the rambunctious little fatty, had enough strength to give him a taste of his own medicine. But Nan, frail and wobbly- kneed, was a perfect aim. The intrinsic pink ribbon in her brown curls seemed to be a special spur for Ken.

The tribulation went on until Susan intervened- and then, when Ken forgot the spanking, Nan brought in the big guns. _Jem's_ smiting was not to be forgotten.

But then, as years went by, they started to value each other's company. Somehow, Ken seemed to be slightly at odds with the Glen boys. He never followed Jem's lead as naturally as the rest of them, there was always some rivalry between him and Jerry Meredith and, although he called Walter his best friend, he was sometimes a bit too outspoken on his poetic airs.

Nan, on the other hand, had always been all sugar and spice and all things nice. Ken, being a city- boy, was not that much of snips or snails or puppy dogs tails. In time, he grew more understanding- and then appreciative- of her girlish ways than any other lad that she knew. From tweaking her ribbons he turned to opening doors for her. They went a long way from a headsman and his resentful victim to especial chums, always rolling in the aisles together and sharing long, good- natured talks.

"Well?" Marilla's voice sounded a bit shrill and Nan budged. She finally understood that Marilla wanted her to read the newspaper and smiled apologetically; she was particularly pensive those days, counting days until Chrtistmas which she was to spend at Ingleside. She had really started to miss home and couldn't wait until they would all be together again.

She took up the letters and the rest of the paper sheets and speedily moved it under her blue scarf, hoping that Marilla would not ask after them. She took up _The_ _Enterprise _and skipped a few pages to find Avonlea Notes. Then she scanned the page, looking for familiar names.

"The many friends of Miss Mary Dora Keith…" she started in a clear voice, but was instantly interrupted.

"I wonder who would that be," Rachel muttered without lifting her eyes from the dress she was trimming.

Nan suppressed a laugh and sent her a reprimanding look. But even Marilla seemed amused. Mary had quite a few conflicts going on with the Avonlea's young fry. Rachel was wont to say that a nose so high in the air looks toffee- hued to any other man in the street.

Nan made haste to another note- and stumbled upon it.

"Mister Matthew Davies has left Avonlea for Spencervale, where he will be in charge of the railway construction."

The next sentence made her clear her throat.

"We understand that he will be coming home as often as possible, since his engagement to Miss Janie Sloane was announced a week ago."

"Janie must be over the moon," Rachel remarked, pulling at her thread to finish the seaming. "She is already twenty six. To tell you the truth, we all have expected her to join Miss Pye in the church charity pretty soon."

This time Marilla had to tell Rachel off, but she did it quite absent- mindedly. She fixed her gaze on the strain which suddenly appeared in Nan's face. But Nan seemed reluctant to reveal her thoughts, which- by the look of her furrowed brow- must have been stormy.

Now, Nan knew that it was shallow and silly and simply wrong… But she couldn't help wondering, in quite a dismay. She wasn't similar to Janie Sloane in any way, was she?

Also, it wasn't how she had imagined her first romantic entanglement to look like. Certainly, Matt Davies did not waste time!

She recalled the letter which Mother sent her right after her birthday. It was really a long and deliciously funny narrative about a young man called Billy Andrews, who was too shy to propose to a girl himself.

Nan shook her head, as if to get rid of obtrusive thoughts. Well, when one is named after her mother, some experiences must be shared by the two, apparently.

"Mrs. Anthony Pye took the first prize for her knitted lace during this year's Exhibition in Charlottetown. Alongside Mr. Chester Sloane's first prize for pigs and Mrs. David Keith's second prize for home made butter tarts, she contributed to Avonlea's respectable representation which we take great pride in."

Nan lifted her eyes and sniffed her nose with a satisfied air. She had the awarded morsels at her fingertips.

"Was Mrs. Pye a student of Mother's, too?" she asked Aunt Marilla. "There are no Pyes at school and I don't remember her from the church."

Marilla nodded her head, smiling wistfully.

"She was. Little Barbara Shaw, the clumsiest girl to ever live in Avonlea. That little Davies girl you brought here once… Even she has more composure."

Nan laughed at the reminiscence of Sally's visit, but soon grew sullen at the connotation of the name.

"Sally is a sweetie. Which is quite surprising, considering what her mother is like. Two weeks ago I invited all the parents to school to talk about their children's progress. And, according to her, they have made no progress. Because I only waste time reading fairy tales to them," Nan stressed every single word because of the overwhelming worry .

Mrs. Richard Davies had also seen fit to inform Nan that it was inappropriate for a teacher to participate in the physical culture exercises. Then she torpedoed Nan's idea of building a tree house in the shrubbery near the school, even though most fathers seemed in favor of the project.

She didn't know what to do. Were all the Avonlea parents dissatisfied with her teaching? They hadn't said so- Mrs Davies had dominated the discussion- and she had been living with a presentiment ever since.

Rachel suddenly exclaimed in frustration and threw her hands up in the air.

"I give up! I will never sew this cravat on properly. Look what a bungle I've made of it!" she threw the garment on Nan's knees. "Are you sure they will be in fashion next year, Nan?"

Nan laughed, grateful for this distraction.

"Persis Ford says so. And she is quite an authority" she laughed again, when Rachel sighed deeply. "Here, let me help you."

Marilla looked at them two, poring over the dress in the dimmed light of the lamp; at Rachel's sweet, full- cheeked face and Nan's cameo- like profile.

Nan's looks had always been quite a pang to her; the girl was a spitting image of Elizabeth Gilis, who Marilla couldn't think of without a stir at the bottom of her heart. She had never hated her; she couldn't, because Liz- her husband's nickname for her- had been an admirable woman, inside and out, a perfect match for John Blythe. Marilla just couldn't help but wonder how she would have complied with this task.

But, having spent more time with Nan, she began to notice trinkets of John in her. There was something about her serene forehead and the line of her straight nose that endeared the girl to her, even if not as closely as Jem. She smiled before falling asleep, remembering that he had promised to pay her a visit after Christmas.

The girls left the room quietly, having cleaned up all the needles and patches of navy blue cotton.

"Nan..?" Rachel stopped insecurely right behind the door. "Did you think us… careless when you came here first?"

Nan said nothing. She didn't want to comfort Rachel by lying and she also wasn't guiltless herself.

Rachel hung her head miserably.

"You did," she stated flatly. "And now I think so, too. Especially of myself. But I was too busy with other things... I had troubles with geometry…"

Nan smiled slyly.

"Rachel, you puss! You only started having troubles with geometry when you realized that Thomas Fletcher was helping Minnie Bell with it!"

Rachel dropped the scissors and blushed a lovely shade of pink.

"Is it that obvious..?" she asked anxiously.

"When one knows what to look at," Nan tilted her head playfully and stretched her arm around Rachel's. "But I think I am the only one who does… Thomas himself _could_ notice it if he wasn't so busy hiding behind his book to peep at you."

Rachel's eyes at once filled with peculiar luster.

"Would you come to my room with me? So that we could talk some more? There are so many people here today… I'll just go to the kitchen and bring us something…" she started prattling again, but then suddenly broke off, as if she had recalled something.

She approached Nan and whispered into her ear. Nan's eyebrows at first disappeared under her forelock- but then she laughed.

"Of course I can get Jack to do it. But what will we do when it starts snowing?"

"It won't. That's what the almanac says."

Rachel opened the door and the noise came in to the hall, surpassing Nan's disappointed groan.

Mrs. Ralph Andrews had paid her brother a visit. Her daughter Kathy was sitting on the floor at her feet, quite occupied with Emily, feeding her with little pieces of a scone. She kept cooing at the child and, with her long, auburn hair and bright blue eyes, as big as two saucers, looked as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. But Nan knew what an incorrigible little rouge she was. At ten, she was quite different from her twin brother Keith, despite their physical similarity. She was Paul's favorite cousin; usually she would be the one to play with him. But since she was busy, poor quiet Keith had to try and keep pace with him.

Jack spotted her and gladly escaped all the clamor. He was holding Tommy, his godson, in his arms and looked as proud as punch.

"Maybe it _will_ snow after all," she looked at him hopefully. "I dread the very thought of green Christmas."

Jack only pouted.

"Easy for you to say, Blythe. _I_ will be the one to shovel all the way to the gate."

Nan stretched her arms to take over the child; after all, it was her godson too.

"I could shovel all the way back to Ingleside if I had to!" she said laughingly, unaware of the evil hour that she chose for herself.

* * *

_if some parts of it look confusing, it's actually good. everything will be explained later on. _

_and pheeeeew! it's so long I will congratulate enyone who manages to get through it. : )_


	11. Ken pays a visit

Jack dashed into the house and hurriedly closed the door behind him. He opened the kitchen door and halted at the threshold.

He had spent the last two hours in the midst of a rampageous blizzard, exposing his fingertips to frostbite. But with the news he had to break he would rather have gone back out.

"Well, Blythe," he grunted unwillingly. "You might want to grab a shovel."

Nan lifted her head and looked at him anxiously. She was sitting at the table, decorating the gingerbread house with the girls. The icing on the tip of her nose disconcerted him even more.

"There is too much snow," he said broadly. Delia, who was beating yolks for eggnog, immediately put two and two together and stared at her with sympathy.

But Nan herself didn't seem to have understood, as she was just sitting there with pieces of peppermint candy in her clenched fist.

"The railroad is impassable. Some trains have been detained in the drifts and so the rest won't be running. You can't go home... I'm- I'm sorry," he stuttered; the look in her eyes made him feel as if he had had his hand in it.

"There, there Nannie," Delia patted her shoulder, talking to her in a comforting voice and Nan frowned. She talked like that to Emily, when the little one bruised her knee. "It won't be that bad. Rev. MacPherson is hosting a sleigh ride- we will have some nice baked apples- and you don't have to get up so early so we will be tattling till the cows come home- I can finally go ice-skating on Barry's Pond with you..." she smiled at the prospect.

To tell the truth, she felt some selfish contentment. She had been thinking about parting with Nan for so long with aversion. And now she did not have to.

She had loads of proposals left. But then she looked at Nan- and halted.

Nan breathed a peculiarly vehement sigh and stood up hastily.

"Excuse me," she left the kitchen and soon her precipitate steps reverberated on the stairs. She had left the gingerbread shutter dangling miserably at the glace window.

Upstairs, she closed the door with a slam and leaned on it. She did not want to see them- not now.

She had spent Christmas away from Ingleside before. She had spent them right there, in Avonlea. But she had never spent them away from her family... She felt terribly disappointed- and homesick- and tearful.

"They must be all sitting around the fireside," she confided in her previously packed trunk. "Dad's joking with Di... Walter's 'up to some poetry' as Susan would say... Susan herself is stuffing Shirl with food… Rilla is chatting with Miss Oliver, making sure no one else can hear them… Mother is there, just smiling at them all... Little Bruce came over to see Jem..."

Jem. What would Jem say if he saw her like this; sitting on the floor, almost crying- at the age of eighteen- and talking to a _suitcase_? Oh, she knew what.

"Get a grip, Kitten!" she was so sure of it, that it felt as if he was standing next to her, pulling her up by the sleeve, as he always did when they were children and she tripped and scuffed her elbows.

So she stood up and got down to unpacking. The valise was bursting at the seams- and muslin creased easily.

"It's going to be a very dull Christmas," she couldn't help one last bitter confession, this time directed at the slider.

But she wasn't right. Unexpectedly, she found she was enjoying herself; while singing carols and reading Christmas stories on their last day at school- and sneaking out at dawn with Jack to get a Christmas tree from the Haunted Wood- and wrangling with Delia over where to hang the decorations- and surreptitiously putting gifts under the tree- and looking at the girls in their Christmas dresses with black upper parts and red checkered skirts- and finding Graf's Hyglo nail polish paste among her presents- and pinpointing with Jack what was necessary for a certain joint venture of them.

Then Mother and Di called from Ingleside and Nan listened intently to their voices, which seemed somehow pent-up. Maybe it was because, as they told her, Jem and Faith were not home yet, because their train had been detained on its way from Charlottetown. Jerry didn't make it home for Christmas either; he had missed the last two days of lectures, playing truant for the first time in his life and following Nan's postal advice, to visit an old friend back in Maywaters and was forced to overstay his welcome.

This was probably why it was so quiet on the other side of the phone; at least, until Father took over the handset to wish 'his Princess' Merry Christmas.

However, Dad was more decipherable than Mother. One could always read him like a book. His voice was falsely sportive.

She understood him perfectlym, though- at least she thought so. He was ever so strongly tied to his family, and she was very much his child in this respect.

She put the phone down and sighed. They were scattered quite literally all over the country, and it was Christmas. Could it be that they had really grown up?

And, more importantly, did it mean they would have to part any soon?

* * *

"Aunty Nannie," Sarah pulled at her skirt. "Play with us!"

The girls were getting bored; on Boxing Day it stopped snowing and the trains started running again, but the very next day the precipitation returned- and reinforced. They couldn't go out and play because it was too cold.

Nan and Jack had just came back from the store in Carmody; their behavior was quite off the wall, as they took their errands straight to Jack's room. Then they ran hurry-scurry down the stairs, as they heard Grandma Di on the porch; she, in turn, had come back from a visit to Great Aunt Minnie May, or Mimi, in brief. They threw themselves on the rug before the fire and tried to look as if they had been lazing there for the previous hours.

"What do you want to play?" Jack asked, having noticed that the legs of his overalls were still wet. He rushed to the toy chest, to escape his mother's eyeshot.

Nan suddenly had a hunch; among dolls and games, Sarah had received some books. Among them was Shirley's old favorite, 'Winnetou'…

"Indians!" she exclaimed eagerly; Emily clapped her plump hands and joggled a few times.

Nan and Jack exchanged glances.

"But we don't have costumes," Jack smiled at Sarah ingratiatingly, hoping to dissuade her.

Sarah smiled back, quite patronizingly. In less than a quarter, Nan was a regular Squaw, with her hair in two plaits and a headdress made of a piece of blue ribbon and a single feather snatched out of Delia's old hat. Jack was far less fortunate; Sarah anointed him chief and as one he needed a decent panache**. **Sarah plucked the rest of the feathers and, clearly lumping it rather than liking, had to make do with Emily's pink brand.

In less than another quarter, Nan forgot how old she was. They used to play Indians in the Rainbow Valley- but then Jem would usually have her, Di and Una kidnapped by the White Faces, that is Walter and Carl. Faith, Jem and Jerry were the only ones who got any fun, pursuing the offenders and the hostages.

So when Aunt Diana opened the door to the living room to bring in an unexpected guest, Nan was jumping around rather wildly, followed by Jack, as they were dancing to evoke rain.

"Na- an," Aunt Diana's voice faltered at the sight. "You have a visitor."

Nan, flabbergasted**,** peeped from behind the tipi; that is, a blanked folded over the table, and gasped. Next to Aunt Diana stood a tall, dashingly handsome young man. His dark good looks were well familiar to her, although somewhat changed. But this could have been caused by the fact that every nerve in his face was taut in a desperate effort not to howl with laughter.

"Ken," she stuttered. Then she laughed; a happy, gladsome laugh as she started to run towards him.

He picked her up and turned around a few times. Nan's long skirt twirled around them as she was shrieking out of sheer giddiness.

"What are you doing here?" she asked at last, pulling away to look at him, though never letting go of his overcoat's lapels.

"Well, I went to Ingleside on Christmas Eve, but you weren't there," he answered simply. Then he grasped both her hands in his, took a step back and looked her up and down. "Why, you're even prettier than I remembered, Nantucket! Didn't think that was even possible."

Nan beamed. It was a platitude, yes, but one of those platitudes which even the most sensible and emancipated of girls are fond of; just like new hats or italics.

"And this hairstyle… Really becoming," Ken laughed fondly, pulling at one of her messy braids.

What followed was an animated introduction of Ken and rearranging of the guest room so that he could settle in for two days. The girls were supposed to sleep with Nan; Delia was to stay in Jack's room, where Tommy's cradle was moved as well, as Jack agreed to sleep on the couch in the drawing room. He smiled at Nan mysteriously; it wasn't that big of a sacrifice since he had intended to spend the night out of the house well before that.

"Come now, we'll be having dinner soon. There is still some turkey left- and I made the stuffing all by myself."

"You did?" Ken gulped with pretended dread, causing Jack to guffaw.

She pretended to look black at them both, but soon found herself laughing again.

"And after dinner we'll have to visit Green Gables. Marilla will surely be glad to see you. And tomorrow I'll show you around. You've always wanted to see Mrs. Lavender's house, right?"

They had dinner; Ken had all the attributes required to please Aunt Diana; that is, the insatiable appetite of a healthy, young fellow combined with impeccable table manners. However, his city- boy ways sometimes seemed to get the better of him, as Nan caught him peeking, quite peculiarly, at Jack who would not be bothered and just ate, not minding the tablecloth or his trousers.

Notwithstanding, he was a great conversationalist; knowing the right words and the right times for them, so the meal was, overall, far more than pleasant.

But among the laughs Nan noticed that Aunt Diana was somehow grim. Of course, Ken's looks and compliments soon took their toll on her and she seemed as charmed as almost all women in his presence. But Nan had spent enough time with her to know that something was wrong.

"Aunty?" she asked unsteadily, as she was clearing cutlery from the table. "Is Ken's arrival inopportune? I know it's unexpected…"

Diana was not looking at her.

"Indeed, it is. I wish you had informed us."

"But," Nan stuttered, "I didn't know he was coming… I didn't, really! I wouldn't invite anyone without asking you…"

But Diana interrupted her. In theory, she wasn't saying anything vexatious, but her voice was hostile and strange, and when she finally looked at Nan her black eyes were quite cool.

"Why, Nan. You don't have to explain yourself. But next time you intend to have a visitor and tramp all over the town with him, would you _please_ bear in mind that this is Avonlea- and it's full to the brim with Pyes and Sloanes. I don't wish to hear your name- or mine- dragged through the mud anymore than it is now."

"What," Nan began to ask, but Aunt Diana had left with the tureen, apparently unwilling to listen.

* * *

They left early in the morning, for Nan wanted to get out of Aunt Diana's sight. They called on Green Gables to pick up the key to Echo Lodge. Mary came out to handle it, her eyes fixed on Ken and blinking a good deal; quite dumbly, it must be admitted.

When the door closed and they turned around to head for the Lover's Lane, Ken rolled his eyes. Nan nudged him as mightly as she could.

"Don't be such a girl- killer!"

But she wasn't that much cross; the world around her was far too beautiful and fairytale- like to allow her a chip on her shoulder.

The sun was shining brightly. Everything glimmered and glistened in its rays, almost blinding their eyes. All the trees seemed to be bending under the burden of their snow caps, and conifers looked like wild, exotic beauties with white veils on their black hair.

Nan took off her blue cap and approached one exceptionally tall fir. Ken formed a little snowball and threw it up, among the breeches. A silver fluff fell on her dark hair and Ken was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if to see better.

"I wish I had taken my camera. You're making quite a picture here."

Nan's blush, caused previously by the frost, deepened. She put the cap back on, not wanting to show Ken how much pleasure his words had caused her. He would surely say things like that to all girls he strolled with.

Ken smiled, at the very moment thinking of how different she was from the girls who usually kept him company on his walks.

"Do you know that Di has the very same cap and scarf? It's just that hers are purple. And her coat is similar, only it's brown."

Nan smiled too, for Ken was probably the only boy she knew who would notice such things. Then she pouted mischievously.

"I _do_ know. We went to Lowbridge shortly before I came here and she chose it after me; we made quite a scene in that store," she explained, giggling sheepishly at the memory of Father, helplessly trying to calm them two. "And the caps are from Una. And since we're at it… Tell me, how are things at Ingleside?"

Ken budged; his deep, dark gray eyes flashed- but it only lasted a tick.

"Oh, it's as usual, I guess. Di is as sharp as ever… And she looks good; positively plump now with all that Susan's food, and Carl and Shirley will probably catch up on her during the break since they came back from Queens slightly thinner. Poor Susan was beside herself. They're not a patch on the Baby, though," he laughed quite viciously.

Nan was all ears, imbibing his words.

"Rilla..?"

"Yes, her," Ken laughed at her absent- mindedness. "But she's gotten pretty nevertheless; at least it seemed so in the two seconds of observation that I got. Then she ran upstairs. I didn't even manage to greet her properly."

Nan placed her hands on her black wool coat accusingly, and Ken glanced at her thus enhanced waist; shapely and very well balanced.

"And did you, by any chance, happen to address her as Spider?"

Ken's eyes fled aside.

"May have happened to," he admitted sheepishly. Then he grinned. "Oh, I just couldn't help it. She is so funny when she sulks, even funnier than you used to be."

Nan resumed their walk, entering the denser, more shadowy part of the forest.

"And how's Walter doing? I haven't heard much from him recently, but he must be really busy in Lowbridge. Or maybe he just writes to Di so much, he doesn't have time to write to his other sisters," she was bantering, but then noticed that reluctant look in Ken's face again.

She wondered whether they had come to blows; but it seemed highly improbable, impossible even, considering Walter's peace- loving nature. Oh, but she didn't want to spoil the moment- it was so pleasurable after all!

She slipped her arm back under his and pinched it a bit.

"Well, if it bores you to talk about _my_ folks, tell me about yours. How's Persis?"

Ken smirked.

"Incorrigible, as usual. I'm fairly sure she's flirting her head away there, in Japan. She brings her teachers to convulsion and Mother to tearing her hair out. Dad spoils her terribly. She gets a new hat every time she gives him an idea when he's writing, and so she keeps toddling around his study…"

Nan was in stitches- so much that she didn't even notice that it started snowing again. Ken did.

"How far is it?" he asked, looking at the sky quite anxiously. "I could never read the clouds like Jem did, but these gals here are rather obvious."

Nan lifted her head- and moaned quietly. Right above their heads was a whirlpool of dark, stormy clouds. Another blizzard was coming. She hadn't noticed it before, because of the dense sheating.

They were lucky to be so close to the house; they ran towards it through the streams of snowflakes. Their lively voices woke up the echoes.

The inside of the hut was quite dusty, but as lovely as ever. Ken looked around and nodded his head approvingly.

"If Dad saw this place, he would probably start writing right off."

Nan wiped the sofa so that they could sit down and brought two soft, wooly blankets from the bedroom, while Ken was stirring up the fire. Nan couldn't understand why he would carry matches in his pockets- but the explanation came soon.

Ken fished a package of Gauloises out and offered it to her.

"M' am?" he asked with mock courtesy.

Nan shook her head. Ken shrugged insensibly, lit the cigarette and only then flinched, as if with sudden recognition.

"You won't mind, will you?" he looked at her searchingly.

"No, of course not" she tried to smile naturally. She didn't want to appear a fusty, narrow- minded country girl to him. Neither did she wish to be moralistic. Ken studied in Toronto; surely girls there were used to it. And Persis probably tried it herself.

"So," he said between two puffs. "How are you doing here?"

Nan smiled and opened her mouth to talk- and then noticed he hadn't finished.

"Must be quite boring, eh? Nothing to do, no one to talk to…"

Nan stiffened under her lavender blanket; partly with rancour and partly because the herbal scent had reached her nosetrils. Then she drew herself up, as the Shirley family temper was taking over her. Ken was lucky there were no school slates at hand.

"Not really. Although I suppose _you," _she stressed the word significantly, "would get bored rigid. Not to mention appalled with the table manners of simpletons like Jack. And dancing skills of girls around here. And their looks. And,"

"Whoa, there! Get off your high horse, Nantucket! I didn't mean to upset you, I'm sorry."

She knew he didn't mean it. He turned his head away, and puffed some smoke out.

She grunted.

"And to be frank… I do mind it."

He understood in an instant.

"My, don't you have some spunk!" he whistled. It made him sound almost like Mr. Douglas from the Glen, and she couldn't help a smirk.

He stood up and extinguished the cigarette. Then he came closer- and his eyes were now earnest.

"I really behaved like a buffoon, now, didn't I?"

"You did," was Nan's curt answer.

"Not the best way to set off now, because I… I have a problem and I came to ask you for some advice," he stopped for a moment. "Look, Nan, I _am_ sorry."

She looked up and examined him. She did not realize it, but the positive appraisal of his honesty had to do with her stroked ego.

A girl asked for advice is a girl won over.

"Well, what is it?" she allowed with impish magnanimity in her voice.

"I'm getting my B.A. this year."

"Oh, that's an ordeal," she couldn't deny herself a little dig.

He sat down next to her and covered his legs with the other blanket. He knew he didn't look particularly manly, wrapped in pink wool, but it was cold and Nan didn't seem to mind.

"Don't tease. Help," he demanded of her. She looked at him expectantly. "I don't know what to do with myself later on."

Nan nodded her head in what seemed to him a comprehension.

"I mean… Jem was so sure that he wanted to go to the Medical College. Walter has at least a vague idea… something about teaching in Redmond," he added, seeing that she didn't quite understand this point. She and Walter were not too close; they loved each other, of course, but… from afar. "And I don't know how about Jerry Mere…"

"Law School" she cut in pithily, quite contrarily to her nature.

Ken winced, as if he had been hoping that he wouldn't be the only one undecided.

"All my friends keep talking about it, they're making plans… Mom and Dad asked about it in their last letter," he looked directly into her eyes. "And I don't know what I want to do, I don't know who I want to be! I'm good at this and that, but I'm not focused on any path."

Nan disentangled her arm from the blanket and stretched it to touch his shoulder. In his face she read her own fears from two days ago; he was afraid of growing up too fast, just as she was.

"Don't get too fixed on it, Ken. It will come to you, maybe not today and not tomorrow, but it will."

Ken listened to her intently and she felt rather awkward. She reflected for a while and took a deep breath.

"Father is a very good at his job; he never brags openly, but, as years go by, you learn to read between the lines. Especially when the lines are those in The Daily Enterprise!"

They both smiled.

"He has the skill, the knowledge and he's got the passion. But it wasn't that he had always wanted to be a doctor, man and boy. He arrived at the conclusion that this was what he wanted."

"My Dad wrote his first story when he was ten or so," Ken said grimly.

"And got it published, of course?" Nan sneered good- naturedly.

Ken laughed out loud- then grew serious again.

"I was hoping you would give me some clues."

"How can I give you clues? You have to know it yourself,' she said decisively. But when, for a second, his eyes filled with disappointment and some impatience, she added, "I can only tell you that I always find your letters a great read."

"You mean that I should be a writer? No," he responded immediately. "I would arise too many expectations because of Dad… and too much comparison. If I turned out worse than him, it would be bad. And if I turned out better- why, then it would be even worse!"

"Well, you don't have to write _books_, do you?" she put as much meaning into it as she could, leaving it to his own perspicacity. She looked out and added hastily, lest he should try to pin her down, "Look, it stopped snowing. Let's go back."

Snowdrifts were even higher than before when they were striding back to Avonlea. While they were crossing the main road, Nan sank in one of them with a loud squeek.

Ken burst out laughing, took both her hands and pulled her out.

"Come here, you muff," he said fondly.

They spent the afternoon with the girls, Jack and Delia outside, sleighing. Nan was exhilarated to see Ken chatting friendly with Jack. They seemed to have taken to each other after all. She was so glad, that she didn't even mind Delia's teasing.

"He is _not_ my beau," she answered simply.

Under the cover of dark, but sparkly winter evening, Nan saw Ken off to the station. Having thrown his bag carelessly on the train seat, he went out once again to say goodbye.

"Don't be angry with me," he instructed rather than asked and tapped her nose with his forefinger. "You won't?"

Nan laughed and climbed on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. She had been growing during the past four months; quite rapidly, for that matter, but she was still a mite next to him. He was almost ridiculously tall.

"Don't smoke."

He grinned and stepped back on the train.

"Take care, Kitten."

Some members of the Pye and Sloane families were present at the station right then, but they didn't pay any attention to the young teacher and her companion. They were too busy gossiping about what the rest of Avonlea's inhabitants had been discussing the whole day.

Namely, that Green Gables had been painted during the previous night and was now again in the snug, tinted shade of green!

Jack, waiting outside the station with the chaise, heard Miss Josie Pye rambling about it to Mr. Charlie Sloane and grinned to himself. When Nan went out and sat next to him, he repeated their words to her- and they shook hands, like partners in crime.

* * *

_Cazx, thank you very much for your review- I'm sorry if you wanted some more Christmas stuff but I wanted to concentrate on something else. I hope you'll like it anyway. :)_


	12. Jerry pays a visit

The next few days were abundant in snow, and Nan spent all of them outside, letting herself forget her own 'adult' status for a while. The lawn in their garden was now an abode of the Snowman family, with big and stout father, mother, two children and a snow dog.

Although Nan never said a word, she was also trying to steer clear of Aunt Diana, as she could very clearly feel that not everything was soft and smooth in the latter's mind about Ken's visit. And Jack was a perfect solution to all chagrins in the world, dispersing them with handfuls of snow loaded behind the collar of her coat or applied to her cheeks without warning.

Just two days before the New Year's Eve, they went sleighing with the girls- and as Nan was occupied with scolding Emily who had lost her gloves- yet again!- he crouched behind her back, suddenly grabbed her at the waist and forcibly put before him in the other sleigh, before rushing downhill and ending up in a huge snowdrift, much to the delight of the told- off culprit.

"Tell me, Wright, why is it," Nan inquired when she had scrambled up and started digging for her cap in the snow, "that whenever I happen to be in a vehicle steered by you, I somehow get my head stripped of its covering?"

But those few frolic days had a rather inevitable outcome; the girls fell sick. Sarah's throat was sore and her head was dizzy, and Nan spent hours by her bed, somehow touched by the helplessness of the little one. Delia's hands were full with the other two; little Tommy was colicky and irritable, and Emily required a good deal of fussing and caretaking. Nan's help was therefore much appreciated, but somewhat expected, too. It was a difficult time for Lone Willow Farm.

"Aunty Nannie," Sarah mewled and Nan stopped reading. She stretched her arm to touch the girl's forehead, but was calmed to feel it cooler and Sarah soon spoke again in a voice much more serene than the previous day. "I don't like this story. How could this girl think that the wolf was her granny? Grannies are not hairy."

Nan took a deep breath- and with an inconceivable effort suppressed a loud guffaw.

"You have a point."

"Will you tell me one of_ your_ stories?" Sarah pleaded and this time Nan couldn't help a little wryness. She had been making up stories about mice living in a dolls' houses and sylphs dancing on lilac leaves for the past two days. For the first time in her life, she was weary with The Dream Land. "Please, Aunty Nannie."

Nan stroked her forehead, digging her mind in search for an excuse.

"Maybe I will call your mummy? She tells even better stories," she finally found one and though it so felicitous that she instantly sprang to her feet and headed for the door.

"But she won't come!" Sarah called after her in a voice which suggested obviousness of the assertion- and it chained Nan to the floor.

"W- why would you say that, sweetie?" she inquired uneasily, coming back to the bed.

"She's busy," Sarah stated as matter-of-factly as before. "She's always busy with Emily."

Nan impulsively grabbed her frail little hand. She knew now- or, no, she had _always_ known, she had felt it.

Indeed, she had often wondered what was in Sarah's mind concerning her mother and little sister. She never expressed any jealousy over the visible affection that Delia showed towards her younger daughter- but there was sometimes a sad, wistful look in her eyes which reminded Nan of Una Meredith. But Una's eyes were less so since Miss West stepped in for her mother- and this correlation was somehow distressing.

One time Nan and Delia had almost fought over it- when Delia reprimanded Sarah, rather severely, for not being careful enough with Emily, who had slipped and bruised her forehead- yet again! Nan let some bitter words fall, but she soon felt forced to apologize for intruding. She was a child compared to Delia; what rights did she have to criticize her parenting methods? And yet…

Nan remembered her own resentment when little Rilla was born. She had never been jealous of Shirley- she couldn't have been, for he was really more of Susan's child than mother's in his first months. In time, she came to mothering him when Susan was busy in the kitchen, and when Mother was still so terribly weak. She could not remember this, of course, but Father often mentioned it, time and time again telling everyone about one time when Ken- strange, how after his visit her thoughts somehow kept coming back to him, even if it was to his baby self- poked Shirley and Nan, for the first and last time in her life, plucked up the courage and smashed him on the head with a rattle. Nan wouldn't let anyone touch 'the little brown boy'.

But when Rilla arrived, a little hell broke loose. Nan was already four at the time; old enough to grow sulky and refuse to embrace the baby as a family member. She and Di sometimes chatted in their lisping voices that the little worm stole their Mother. It took weeks and a lot of gentle talks on Mother's part before they allowed a change of heart towards the newcomer.

Sarah never expressed any fits of the sort- even though Delia was far less painstaking with her than Mother had been with the twins.

"She will surely find a few minutes to tell you about the Three Green People," Nan tried to make her voice ensuring- but it sounded rather diffident. "And she would surely prefer your company to Emily's- can you hear the howling?" Nan tried to dispel the sudden gloom, as loud cries came from upstairs.

"No," Sarah shook her head. "She would prefer Emily. Always."

Nan was at a loss for words. Such a resignation in so small a child was far too much, she couldn't bear it. At school she was often an arbiter in the young fry's quarrels and a comforter. But this left her helpless. She knew she would have to speak to Delia, however much she would like to avoid that.

"Will you at least sing for me?" Sarah asked with little hope, but Nan smiled affirmatively.

"_I saw a ship a-sailing, a-sailing on the sea,_  
_And oh, it was all laden with pretty things for me."_

Her voice wasn't strong or in any way exceptional. It was only because it was trained and clear that she was always asked to sing in church choirs. But this time it rang with an unspoken sadness, a realization, and was as tender as Nan could make it.

The sweet tones of the well-known lullaby reached the ears of a young man, at the time being brought in by a beautiful, if a bit burly, woman. Then the girl heaved into sight- leaning over a small child's forehead and dropping a soothing kiss on it. She turned around and he could finally see her face, surrounded with a dark halo of hair, escaping the rigid tangle of the braid. It seemed changed, more serious and matured, with quite striking cheekbones and enchanting, irregular features.

She was gazing at him; in her big, nut-brown eyes he found the effort to anchor his figure to some name within her memory. It caused him to take a deep, reassuring breath. Reassuring, for it seemed to him that his lungs forgot about their duties for a while. She really did not recognize him!

Nan blinked a few times. She looked at Aunt Diana's face in search for a stern expression. Not finding it, she turned to him again and only then asked in disbelief,

"Jerry?" as she was standing up rather unsteadily.

He looked so different- and it wasn't just because she wasn't used to the sight of him in a suit and hat. They had always met in rather casual situations; she had often seen him in nonchalantly creased trousers, hands thrust into the pockets, as if to match the rolled sleeves of his shirt. But this traveling coat- his trimmed hair- the silk tie put years on him. Years and some inexplicable appeal. Her childhood chum has become an eligible bachelor- and Nan felt keenly the ache which it caused somewhere in her chest. Why, she did not know.

What swept her off her feet, however, was in fact the intent gaze which he fixed upon her silhouette. His eyes were flashing- and seemed to be drawing her somehow, as if she was meant to drown in the two black pools.

Aunt Diana looked at her- then at the young man who, apparently, she was not going to be introduced to, judging by Nan's stunned bearing- and left quietly.

Nan took a hesitant step- Jerry stretched out his hand and as she was beginning to smile and ask what, on earth, was he doing there, the door was flung open and Jack burst in.

"Nan, quick!" her eyes darkened, as always when she was afraid, Jerry remembered. They were always very much like Jem's in moments of fear. "Aunt Marilla!"

Nan gave out a suppressed cry and burst out without as much as a glance; through the window they saw her crossing the snow- covered fields in terrified hurry. Wordlessly, Jack grabbed her black coat and ran after her. Jerry took up a cap with a folded scarf inside- the blue wool seemed somehow familiar- and followed.

When Nan threw the Green Gables front door open and ran upstairs, she met a wall of people. Uncle Davy caught her before she could enter the gable room and held her back, despite her vehement tussling. Rachel was sobbing and little Paul crouched in a corner with a kitten crying on his lap. Aunty Millie paced quickly near her with a bowl of hot water which she handed to Dr Fletcher, who looked nothing like his placid self from as little as a month before, his face stricken and worried. Nan knew the look, she was a daughter of a doctor.

She shook her head, refusing to believe what she was seeing- then she turned around on her heel and fell into her own coat, as Jack had just climbed the stairs, stretching his arms. He covered her with the warm cloth, and she leaned her head on his chest to cry everything out.

At first Jack stood rather awkwardly, but when her shoulders started shaking helplessly he grasped them into his to ease the trepidation. He had never wished for another sister, but he was, in fact, given one and it had grown on him with time. He couldn't stand seeing her so weak and unsound, and it seemed only natural and brotherly to both of them to stand there silently, deriving strength from each other.

It seemed nowhere near so, however, to Jerry Meredith who arrived at Green Gables- rather winded, the bottoms of his trousers wet- to find the young, fair- haired fellow swaying Nan in his arms and stroking her dark hair.

Then a calmative voice declared some danger, unknown to him, 'passed' and Nan sobbed one last time before sighing with visible relief and then getting hiccups. She laughed silently when Jack grabbed her arms and shook her gently to set her at rest ultimately.

Then her eyes found him- and the solace in her eyes turned into inquietude as she began to retreat and disengage herself from Jack's embrace.

Jerry ground his teeth fiercely.

* * *

The contrast between the two visits and farewells couldn't have escaped her notice, although Nan would have fervently wished that for herself.

This time the sky was grim and stormy, just as Jerry's eyes. He was sitting next to her on the station bench, so close- and yet so far away. She had read the exact sentence in bad romances, which her and Di's roommate at Queens was so fond of; after all, how could two people be apart when they were together? Talking was all it took to diminish the distance.

The silence was numbing.

Nan wanted to speak, but choked on the words whenever she looked up to his face. His black brow was furrowed cheerlessly.

"I'm sorry we couldn't put you up. Doctor Fletcher had to stay to watch over Aunt Marilla- and there was no spare room at Green Gables..."

"I wasn't going to stay," he cut in mercilessly.

She was stiffened by the detachment of his voice- and at the same time moved by its low, deep sound.

She couldn't understand. She could sense it was cold since her fingertips were all but frozen- and yet she didn't _feel_ it. She was almost feverishly hot.

"It makes me dizzy," she whispered, putting her hand to her head.

Jerry turned around to finally look at her- something in his face softened- then he shook his head.

"You should go. It's cold, you needn't waste your time…"

"Jerry!" she didn't let him finish. Her eyes were bewitching even when filled with reprehension. He had to move away.

It was all pointless, it made no sense- but Nan couldn't help feeling it was because there was some hidden meaning to their talk. It felt wrong; with their two, nothing had ever been hidden before.

"Why did you come?" she asked bluntly, hoping that he would reply in his casual, straightforward manner.

The answer was spared him, however, as they heard a shrill whistle. The train was near.

He grabbed his bag; she had previously clenched her fingers on the strap, so it seemed now that he snatched it out of her hands.

It felt as if he was snatching something out of her bosom, too.

"I wanted to pay you a visit," he felt obliged to respond, but did it as defiantly as was possible with her calling eyes so close to him. "You seem to be receiving quite a lot of them recently."

She raised her eyebrows. If all this was about Ken's visit… Then Jerry was acting out of place. She did nothing- she was not guilty- and so she grew angry. She drew herself up.

"I thought one more would not make much difference," he went on.

"So I've gathered," she answered in her famous, chilly tone. It was one of the things which gave her the reputation of 'the proud one'. Jerry had heard it before- but had never had it directed at him.

He turned around rapidly and boarded the train. He carefully put his bag on the shelf and opened the window, as she had tried one last time and approached his compartment. He lifted his hat.

"Have a good one, Nan, goodbye."

She took a deep, vehement breath, tossed her head up, and headed for the exit without a word of . Just before the train turned he saw the last of her; she reached under her collar and impulsively pulled at something as if to take it off. Then she thrust it carelessly into her pocket. He couldn't see what it was- but he knew perfectly well. He sank onto his seat and sat stock- still for a while.

Then he gustily cast his hat away.

* * *

Diana hesitated at the threshold. Then she tried to knock, but the door was not closed so she factually pushed it to open.

The lamp was turned off, but a slender figure was visible in the moonlight. Nan was sitting on her bed, looking out the window. Two thick braids seemed to be resting on her back and her palms were clasped together on her lap. Diana had often found her mother in exactly the same position- and with plaits just as thick, though radiantly red- and it baffled her even more.

"Nan, darling…"

The girl was startled; she jumped up and turned the light on. When she caught sight of Diana her eyes flashed with anxiety and she spoke instantly.

"Aunty, I really didn't…"

"No, Nan," she rushed forward and grasped her shaking hands. "I'm so sorry I was unpleasant. I should have believed you, I'm a horrible aunt."

Nan smiled with relief.

"You're an Aunty, not an Aunt," she made the necessary correction. Diana hugged her warmly and though some of her worry was thus dispelled, a little sliver of sorrow stayed- but that had nothing to do with Aunt Diana.

"I'll make you pancakes for supper. I bought a bigger bottle of maple syrup, especially for you. If you hurry up, you'll get some before Doctor Fletcher uses it all up."

"I think I'll pass on the supper tonight, Aunty. I'm not hungry… at all."

Diana sat down on the bed and smoothed the colorful quilt.

"I think I owe you an explanation, Nan," seeing her niece's eagerness, she sighed somewhat thoughtfully. "I can imagine you were surprised when I started… expostulating," she searched for the word for a while. "There is nothing wrong with your friends visiting, really. But, you see, I was already touchy with all that clamor about Delia and…"

"What about me?" asked a clear, jolly voice, as the mentioned stepped in without knocking. They both looked at her, wondering how much she had heard.

Aunt Diana stood up hurriedly.

"I have to go now… Doctor Fletcher," she said inconclusively, apologetically kissed Nan's cheek one more time, and left. Delia looked after her; for an instant, her delicate features wavered, as if in pain. Then she turned to Nan with her usual, playful smile.

"Well, well, well. Another one smitten," she laughed, not paying attention to Nan who turned around and slammed a drawer in her desk. "I have to say I liked the first one better- this one was so somber. Though my infallible intuition tells me..."

"Would you care to tell your _intuition _that it is a matter of no concern to her? Unlike your older daughter, might I add," Nan racily interrupted Delia's joyous flood of words and the latter gasped in astonishment. "Now, do you want anything from me? I would like to be alone, if you'd excuse me."

"There's a call from Kingsport to you," Delia replied in a fitful voice.

Nan rushed downstairs- and was, for the first time in her life, disappointed to hear Jem on the other side.

"Kitten, are you there?" soon enough, his flurried voice replaced her disappointment with anxiety. What a day for her!

"I'm here. What is it, Jem?"

"Has Jerry left already?"

She almost dropped the handset.

"How do you know he was here?"

"Why, I sent him myself. How are you doing now?"

"You sent him?" Nan only had mind for one thing. "Jem, I understand nothing."

A loud sigh was heard- a sigh of realization.

"He didn't tell you. First Ken- and now him? Blast them, dastards."

She felt her heart flutter; Jem and Jerry would sometimes call themselves names, but never in so serious a tone.

"Jem… What is it?"

"I'm sorry you have to find out in this way. Hold on to something, Kitten, will you? It's Walt… He's got typhoid."

Nan dropped the headset eventually; it hit the wall with a loud thump.

"Nan..? Is everything alright? Nan! Can you hear me? It's going to be alright, the symptoms are… Swell, she must have fainted. _Nan!_"

No, she had not fainted. She was just standing there, unable to move, looking, in turns, at the yelling headset and the gold thread of a broken chain, dangling miserably from her pocket.

* * *

_please, don't hate me. :-) everything is going to work out just fine- I just wouldn't be myself if I didn't put my characters through some tribulation. they need a little hammering. ;-)_

_I would like to thank you for all of the reviews- especially Eternal Evening, because you were really supportive. thank you times hundred!_

_oh, and if the words I used here were wrong- do tell. I mean mostly Jem's part. I'm not a native speaker- and thus I'm not so expert with expressions like that. if anything is inappropriate, too strong etc. - be so kind as to let me know. _


	13. Delia tells a story

"Yes, Nan- girl, hullo. It's so nice to hear your voice- finally! But before you go on and ask- I'm fine, completely fine. Yes... No, I am not sleepless. Yes… No signs of relapsing rash… No. No raves whatsoever… Now, would you mind telling me how many hours exactly has Jem spent on the phone, lecturing to you? I _am_ serious… They'll let me go home in a few days time. And Susan is menacing that she will 'have her way with me' when they do. She'll get me as right as rain before I can say Jack Robinson- and that you may tie to… Why, Nan- girl, are you crying..? Oh, no, please don't! Rilla- my- Rilla has almost cried her eyes out and even _Faith_ barely escaped piping hers when she came to visit… Um, sorry, Nan- girl, could you repeat that? I only heard some mumble, there must be something on the line. Ah, yes, Jerry came with her. Only my Di is being sensible and does not… Oh, wait, I take that back, she just started crying. You sisters are the most precious, ridiculous bunch. I have to go back to bed now, the nurse is frowning upon me. Thank you for calling. Now, don't be a goose, I understand you can't come. We will see each other at home. Take care."

* * *

Nan put the phone down and sighed. Walter did sound well… but it had been such a close shave. She couldn't believe their own piece of luck, or rather, their blessing.

She had never been too close with him. She loved him, of course she did. Just as the rest of the family, she knew that Walter was given to poetry and that he had an imagination as vivid and sensitive as her own. But he wasn't entirely after her own heart. With all her dreaminess, Nan was still best described in her old teacher's simple words; 'Blythe by name and blithe by nature', incessantly bubbling over with life and joy. Walter, on the other hand, was somehow reserved. He had never read any of his poems to her, so she didn't know if they were any good. They probably were. However, just because he did write them didn't mean that he was outstanding- and she sometimes wondered whether Walter didn't find himself so. Also, sometimes when he was writing, she caught him peeking around, as if checking if anyone took notice. Particularly often, it was Faith Meredith that his gray eyes would seek. Nan was too close to Jem and Shirley- to let the two of them grow near, especially since he was so close to Di and Rilla. In families as big as theirs, divisions like these were immanent.

But if anything had happened to him… Nan would never have been the same joyful, laughing girl. It would have been an unbearable blow- all the more destructive, as it would have come unforeseen.

She had to grapple with herself not to confront Mother about keeping her in the dark about everything. She knew it had been done with her best interest in mind, but… She just couldn't help feeling resentful. Of course, Mother would like them all to stay children. But Nan had thought that Mother treated her a bit differently, more like a friend- after all, she was her closest daughter, however dearly she loved Rilla and… and Di! Di, of all people, keeping something like this from her!

However, Nan had another reason not to come to grips or bear any grudges. At that point she was keeping a similar secret herself.

Aunt Marilla was 'not well' once more. Doctor Fletcher spent his days at Green Gables and nights at Lone Willow Farm, keeping constant watch. Nobody was allowed to enter the gable room. His answers to Nan's probing questions were very guarded; so she didn't even know what was Aunt Marilla's condition exactly. The premonitions were insufferable.

In this atmosphere, they reached the New Year's Eve. Nan had been invited to a party hosted by the Donnels, but she declined the invitation. She knew she would again be deemed uppity for it, but she couldn't care less. She was in no mood to celebrate.

She was rather given to thoughtfulness those days. The Reaper had never encrouched on her world- not for real. She had lost her grandparents so early that she had only vague recollections of their faces and voices. She couldn't remember or miss little Joyce, never having known her. Everyone in the family seemed to belong; she couldn't imagine their lives with another sister, however hard she tried. When Mrs. Lynde died, they were all afflicted, but nowhere near as much as Mother or Aunt Marilla. She had simply never lost anyone particularly close to her.

"Until now," she thought miserably, clenching her cold fists.

With all these fears, Nan came downstairs and knocked at Delia's door. The latter was poring over a letter; she sent her a hesitant look over the edge of her reading glasses.

"Delia, I'm… I'm so sorry," she didn't know what else to say. Her words were perhaps too scant or simple, but they seemed just enough for Delia who put her pen away and stood up to embrace Nan. Two rather wistful smiles were exchanged, and Nan left the room with a slightly less strained face.

They fried some hash browns, dismantled the gingerbread house into smaller tidbits and picked up the oddments of those new Laura Secord bonbons which Emily had gotten from her father in a Christmas gift. They curled up on Nan's bed, behind the locked door. They took little Tommy in; the girls were out on a walk with Aunt Diana and Jack had gone ice- fishing and was not to come back until midnight when he would launch fireworks on the lawn. Uncle Fred only knocked on the door once, to offer them some mulled wine. They invited him to stay, but he left quickly, content to see them two together again after two days of heavy silence. Besides, in the absence of his wife, he was to cast an eye over the roasting duck.

Delia watched Nan's swift knitting in silence, then she spoke abruptly.

"Nannie? Would you mind spending your New Year's Eve listening to a longish, moldy and a terribly commonplace story?"

This question, Delia remarked, must have been expected, since Nan's long fingers did not stop even for a tick and kept folding a bright yellow thread.

"Not at all."

Delia took a deep breath- and began. Nan couldn't look at her. She could feel that despite its humdrum frame, the moment was important.

And as for Delia's story… With every word, Nan felt her throat clutch more. Such spite, such virulence right there, next to her. She couldn't understand how it could have escaped her notice for so long. Those telling looks, the pregnant silence, catty smiles… And all that directed at Delia- Delia who was so… one of a kind. She didn't only know Joseph- they were sworn allies.

She might have been married, she might have been a mother. She might have been considered staid and stately for it; or, more precisely, it was what she was expected to be and what she pretended to be, while she was everything but. Exuberant and lively by nature, she had been trying to restrain herself; her ever wandering thoughts, her love of life, her tendency towards daydreaming. None of these were approved of in Avonlea. She moved there from White Sands since Ned, her husband, 'went to sea' for a longer cruise to provide for their soon-to-be-enlarged family. She simply felt lonely without him; lonely and easily hurt.

Their life together had always been difficult, ever since Sarah's birth. That wee, innocent baby was enough to set a bulk of gossip in motion. Delia didn't even try to explain herself to anyone. They wouldn't have believed her, she knew that, even though she would have only told them the truth.

"You're not asking any questions," her voice ringed with surprise.

"Why should I? You will tell me what you want- and only that much," Nan answered, stooping to tickle Tommy's bare, pink little foot. He was such a darling little dandy- already on his way to become an involuntary heart- breaker like Ken Ford!

The truth was prosaic; that she gave up on Redmond, because Ned asked her to do so. They had been engaged, or at least thought themselves so, even before she went to Queens- girl and boy of merely fifteen! - and he had promised her to wait until she got her B.A. But when his distant aunt in turn promised to bequeath him a house if he could find a wife for himself... she yielded, knowing what an easement it would be in his life. He had been working for the railroad so hard when all he ever really wanted was the sea... and her. What reason was there not to yield?

And if she married in haste... She did not repent, either at leisure or ever.

But it was not a story to fall on sympathetic ears. Peple _needed _at least an apology for scandal in their lives, to reprove and discuss, time and time again, during the visits they paid on the long, winter afternoons. Delia simply served the purpose.

In White Sands it wore off quite soon. People forgot about it almost completely after Emily was born. Delia put down roots together with her flowers, making first _real _acquaintances and paying her first neighborly visits. But when Ned announced that he had to go away for a year, she knew she had to escape. With him by her side, nothing was impressive enough. But when he was gone, she,

"Funked. That's right, Nannie, don't miff. But that's not the worst of it. It's how I treat Sarah which frightens me. What kind of a mother must I be? But then, when I look at her… I don't see Ned, though I should, because she is a spitting image, you will see for yourself. But I- I see them. I see them all whispering- and laughing- and…" a tear suddenly broke away from her black eyes. The eyes which Nan had seen as hurtful in her childish daydreams. For a moment, she had believed that they were really so- until now, that she saw they were really _hurt_.

Delia looked no older than Nan herself that moment. Slender, graceful, arousing awe with her beauty- all that she still was. But mostly- she looked vulnerable.

"Stop it, Delia, right there!"

Nan picked Tommy up, pressed him closely to Delia, and sat next to her.

"You can't think that," she said decisively, but put her hand on Delia's shoulder.

"I know, but… Oh, you won't understand, you can't have the least idea what it is like…"

"Oh, can't I?" cried Nan.

It took her only a few poignant sentences to sketch her contacts with girls back in Glen, how she never had a friend apart from Di until the Merediths came…

"That's why I lo- value them all so much!" she exclaimed at last and quite literally, fossilized, as if she had revealed a terrible secret.

"I didn't know," Delia whispered.

"Delia, she doesn't…" Nan felt forced to come back to where they started, however much pain she could see it causing Delia. "She loves you, very much so. She just has to know you love her, too."

Delia nodded. Then she stretched her hand and clasped Nan's in it. Two pairs of deep, velvety eyes met, filled with unwelcome tears. They had shared only joys before- now they came to share a sorrow.

Smithys are rarely papered pink; even less frequently do little cupids of boys lie gurgling in them. But that night, in the little gable room, something was wrought in the most precious and durable of materials; a friendship. One which was supposed to last 'for aye', as both Nan and Delia had loved to say in days long gone by.

* * *

At Green Gables, Doctor Fletcher sighed and stood up. He bent to blow out the two candles at the bedhead. Then he went downstairs to break the news to the fearful family gathered in the parlor.

Yes, he regretted to say, Miss Cuthbert was gone. A strong infection- at this age a severe condition. But it was in her sleep, and peacefully. Everyone would wish for a death like this. Probably they should make a call and inform Mistress Blythe.

Or maybe they should wait. The fireworks were such a delight- let the doll enjoy them.

* * *

_it is probably just a filler for you, sorry if it bored you. I meant to make the interaction between Nan and Delia a bit similar to that between Anne and Katherine Brooke in "Anne of Windy Poplars"- when the latter came to Green Gables. I fear that I went overboard with bombast. and maybe I portrayed Nan's appraisal of Walter too harshly? _

_and, Walter Blythe- it was so nice hearing from you again, thank you! are you a member of the site and if so- did you get my message? I'm afraid I might have sent it to someone uninterested in listening to my babbling. ;-)_


	14. What remains

Nan heard a stir at the porch and threw away the Latin course book. She made for the door, but before she could reach it, he opened it himself from the outside.

"Jem," she sighed with ineffable relief, as his strong arms were closing around her.

"You know, Kitten, it feels much more comfortable hugging you now. I don't need to bend so much. Have you been growing?"

She pulled away and laughed. She hadn't done that almost at all for the past four days and it sounded a bit hoarse, as if she had forgotten how. She- always so prone to laughter! But it was hardly strange. Jem, her big brother Jem, who usually wore a grin on his face, was standing next to her with cheerless, overcast eyes.

How could they be unruffled with Aunt Marilla gone?

"How was the journey?" she asked, grasping his hand. She was happy to finally have him next to her and when he gave back the grip, she knew he felt the same about her.

"I didn't get detained in snowdrifts this time, luckily. Although I can't say that the arrest was disagreeable altogether. After all, I had Faith there," he smiled somewhat thoughtfully and Nan arched her brow.

"Are you hungry?"

"Famished," his answer was fully in accord with her expectations.

"There's pea soup for now… I know you don't like it, but I had Aunt Diana make dough boys especially for you," she added, as if to alleviate the pain, quite plainly visible on his candid face. He hated vegetable soups.

"Right, I should say hello," he never let go of her hand, dragging her to the kitchen.

The Wrights' dinner table was as loud and cheery as always, or perhaps even more so, as the family was trying to make up for the less loquacious Blythes. Jem, in particular, seemed petulant. When Jack asked him whether the latest Ford model was popular in Kingsport, he had only half a mind to respond. Sarah and Emily were at odds about the caramel flan sauce; little Tommy, chose the very moment to explore the strength of his little lungs for the first time, and it seemed to bother Jem, with all his fondness for kids.

Noticing Nan's distressed look, Delia finished her soup quickly- quite a sacrifice, for she was just as averse to it as Jem was- and took the child away, smiling invitingly at Sarah, who followed her soon enough. Uncle Fred promptly decided that Emily needed a walk and Aunt Diana only pointed her finger at the kitchen cupboard in which she had hidden a generous portion of gingerbread with whipped cream, before leaving the siblings to talk alone. They clearly needed it.

"So, when is the rest coming?" Jem asked, taking the washed plate from Nan's hand and wiping it with a dishcloth.

"Tomorrow morning."

She led him back to the guest room with platefuls of gingerbread in both her hands. When she sat down on the sofa, however, he put them away on the table. He lied down, putting his head on her lap and covering his eyes with open hands.

"Uh, I'm dog tired," he complained, stretching himself on the couch. She responded with a sympathetic mutter. "I had to take my chemistry exam in advance to come here… I haven't slept for the past two days."

Nan enveloped her finger in one of his auburn curls.

"And haven't had your hair cut for the past two months, I suppose."

"My, I should be so grateful for having a caring sister like you!" he uncovered one eye and peeked at her playfully. She chuckled and pulled at his hair. "I know, I know… I swear, you're just like Faith, she has been bending my ears about it, too."

"How is she?" Nan asked eagerly.

Jem grinned complacently.

"Redmond's at her feet, of course. In her second month, she had already hit it off with almost all of the Sophomores. She doesn't like the boarding house, though, but it's no wonder. It's terribly shabby. I have only been there once and I never want to go again. She gave me a little something for you, by the way, it's in my bag. And she sends her love."

Nan hesitated for a while, wondering whether she should drop the question or not. For some reason she didn't want to share this with anyone; she felt somehow uneasy about it. But… it was Jem. And she was in desperate need for any kind of explanation.

"And… what's with Jerry?"

On these words, Jem rapidly mounted on his elbows to look right into her eyes.

"Actually, Kitten… Shouldn't it be me to ask the question?"

When she started blinking helplessly, he scratched his head with confusion.

"I don't know what's wrong with him these days. He barely even talks to me… Ben and Dan- you remember our roommates?- they just stay out of his way altogether. He's been as angry as a bear with a sore head… He has never been all about going out exactly, but now he just sits in his room and does nothing but study. Even Faith couldn't get anything out of him. What happened here, Kitten?" Jem asked, reaching out for his plate. His appetite was whetted by the smell- Aunt Diana was a great cook!- but when he looked at Nan, it left him again.

Nan, who had drooped her head at the beginning of Jem's tirade, was now looking at him rather vehemently.

"Why did you send him here, Jem? For what?

"Why, Kitten!" Jem was so surprised that he put the plate down. "I knew about Walter well before you did… Truth be told, you weren't supposed to know at all! Dad forbid me to say a word."

Nan recoiled. She was so shocked that her eyes grew as big as two brown saucers.

"They… They did not want to tell me? At all?"

Jem shook his head.

"But I thought you should know. When Ken said he was going for a visit, I thought _he_ would tell you. But he never did, so I thought of Jerry instantly. White Sands is on the way from Maywaters. I thought… I thought it would be better if he told you because… Because you two have always understood each other so well," Jem floundered under Nan's serious, probing eyes. "Was I wrong?"

"I… I don't know, Jem! I didn't even talk to him properly. All at once, he was here… and I didn't even manage to greet him… And then Jack…"

By and by, Jem dragged everything out of her. There wasn't much to be dragged; but it was enough to bring upon his face a frown which didn't bode Jerry well.

"Now I don't understand anything," he admitted sheepishly. "But I'll talk to him, Kitten, and…"

"You will do nothing of the sort!" Nan interrupted in an imperative tone.

"Alright, alright! I won't then. No need to serve me those teacher tricks of yours. I only meant well."

Nan suddenly felt guilty; she didn't want Jem- _anyone- _interfering in this, but she had been rather too cantankerous. She grabbed her brother's hand and pressed it impulsively.

"I'm sorry, Jem. I didn't mean to sound mean, don't be mad at me… At least you."

And when Jem smiled at her reassuringly and patted her hand, she went on with her more usual playfulness.

"I know you would love to serve him those big brother tricks of yours, but I won't have you two falling out…"

She didn't manage to finish. A mighty nudge swept her off her feet, and she fell onto the pillows of the sofa.

"Alright, enough about that. Now tell me why you were you so intent on having me here earlier than the rest?"

Nan looked away. Now, the sore point.

"It's about Marilla… We will have a problem, Jem."

"We? Who?"

"All of us, I guess… but especially you. Marilla- Marilla left you the house," she spluttered.

"Green Gables?" Jem choked out. And when Nan nodded, he ejaculated, "But what am _I_ supposed to do with it? I thought it would be given to the Keiths."

"And so did the Keiths," Nan cut in. "In fact, we all thought so. But Aunt Marilla must have changed her mind after… well, you know after _what,_" she sent him a telling look. "I wrote to you about it."

He listened carefully.

"Aunt Millie was _livid_… I have never seen her so, nor do I wish to see. She made a horrible scene, yelling that they have to move out and some other things, even more ridiculous," Nan lifted her eyes to him, as if she was expecting him to acquiesce. "Mary was on her side of course… She and Rachel almost had a catfight! And when I wanted to take little Paul here for the night, she flew at me."

He only waved his hand impatiently; Nan remembered that he had never had much liking for the older one of the Keith cousins. She watched him pace across the room, stroking his chin. She noticed a slight trace of an unkempt beard on it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at her, visibly wrathful.

"What do you want to do now?" she had to ask him.

"Does Mother know?"

Nan shook her head.

"Nobody does. I thought you should be the first to know," she answered meekly, responding to his decisive manner, as she would always do in the Rainbow Valley days.

"Very well. Leave all that to me, Kitten. Would you like to go for a walk now? It seems ages since I have seen The Lake of Shining Waters. And is the owl hollow in the Haunted Wood still there?"

* * *

Mrs. Harmon Andrews craned her neck to see better from behind her grandson, Billy's first- born, named after her own husband. Her thoughts were cantering along the impressions which the occasion offered to her and all the others who had arrived to bid the final farewell to the late Miss Marilla Cuthbert.

"Ninety three, what an age! Marilla had a good life- at least the last part. Just look, what a crowd! Them Cuthberts became very sociable in their final years. All due to Anne Shirley, of course. Strange, how this name suits her. She has been married for over twenty years and still everyone in Avonlea calls her so. Ah, there she is, I couldn't see her from behind Jack Wright! Well, she looks good… very young. As thin as ever, though. And this black silk _is_ becoming… Though not nearly as beautiful as my Jane's dresses, of course. But then, _Anne _didn't make as good a match as my girl. Well, that's just the way of the world. Everyone knew Marilla would not last long after Rachel Lynde's going. I do hope there is some life left in me yet..."

Nettie Andrews, nee Blewett, brought her mouth closer to her husband's ear.

"Just look at poor Millie Keith, William. Isn't it just horrid to be left so…"

Her husband was only listening with half an ear, though. He was gazing at the Blythe family- and so was his older son, Harmon.

"Will you ever stop, Rev. Moody? You've been talking for half and hour already. This blasted cold! Well, at least it's a good job that I don't have to wear a dress. I imagine this teacher is shaking like a leaf. She _is_ as pretty as everyone says… But a terrible prig, too, you can see at first glance. It's a wonder she didn't hit her head on that ash branch, she holds it so high! And this other sister is much prettier. What a braid! I could never understand why Ma doesn't like red hair. It's gorgeous. Maybe Edith could introduce me? She should. What's a sis for, after all? Or maybe that friend she has, who always seems to know everyone…"

"Them Blythe boys are regular good- looking," Beryl Gilis remarked and soon shared this observation with Edith Andrews, who had left her family to sit in the Gilis pew. "Oh, these older sisters are holding hands, that's a little for show now, isn't it? You can see they have no proper clothes for a funeral. They went about it quite well, I must admit; those black collar bows for white blouses is enough to make up for such plain cotton skirts. Of course, I wouldn't choose black for my blouse. I think there is some blue taffeta from my spring dress left…"

Janie Sloane slid her arm under her fiance' s shoulder.

"Do you think we could buy Green Gables if them Blythes decide to sell it? It _is_ terribly old, but it would be cheaper then."

"We won't stay in Avonlea," Matt answered in an imperative whisper. "Spencervale is not that far, you will be able to come and see your mother," he added, knowing the reason for her sorrows all too well. "I've been at two houses already. Not too big, but new and well kept…"

Mrs. Richard Davies leaned her head to hear Miss Josie Pie more clearly.

"What's the use of leaving one backwater town for another? That's right, Gilbert Blythe, you should have known better than that. You ought to have stayed at his father's farm. It would have done wonders to you. And only to become a doctor? You can see he's exhausted at first glance! But he has to earn enough money for his wife's needs, I suppose. And she belongs to those women who start to tire their husbands after it's already too late. When we were at school we all thought he would end up with Ruby Gilis… She at least looked good enough for a man like Gil. Poor Ruby! How long has it been now since she died..?"

"There's the Wrights' daughter," Miss Gertie, her sister, joined them at the back of the church. "She has that fancy name… Cornelia? I wonder where Diana Barry found a name like this… And the girl really is insolent, showing up here just like that!"

"Poor Nan," thought Jake Donnel. "She _knows_ everyone is talking. I bet she won't stay for another year. Darn all those old tattlers!"

* * *

A light touch on her shoulder didn't startle Nan. She knew it well.

"Why are you sitting here alone, darling?" Mother sat down next to her. "There were so many of us at the table that I didn't even notice you were gone at first. But when Di and Jack left…"

"I needed to be alone."

"Do you want to me to leave you now?" Mother asked and her voice was as gentle as always. It emboldened Nan. Maybe they could talk it all over. It pained her to think something was standing between them. She had had enough of rows already.

"Do stay," she pleaded, grabbing Mother's hand. Anne smiled warmly and dropped on the bench next to Nan. Yet, although her daughter had asked for her company so fervently, she remained quiet.

"Well, wasn't it a tiring day, darling? But it's almost over now- and the sunsets here are still as beautiful as I have remembered. Look at the willow… what does it remind you of now, in this glow?"

It was an invitation to another delightful fantasy; Nan had shared many a daydream with her mother back on Ingleside's old verandah.

"A mourner," she answered curtly, refusing to play along. It just didn't feel right, to act with Mother as if nothing was wrong, when there was so much beneath the surface. She also felt somehow affronted because of this little quibble on Mother's part. "Willows are sad, no matter how beautiful."

"Sad? Why, have you never listened to a willow's whisper in the spring? It just seems to be telling the merriest stories."

"We have months to go through before spring comes, Mother."

Anne recoiled a little.

"I am aware of that, dear. But it will come eventually," she insisted, pressing Nan's fingers. Nan didn't give back the grip, though. Instead, she began to get a bit hot under the collar. Didn't Mother _ever _give up on her blithe ways? "It is only understandable in you, though."

As _if _Nan had thrown a tantrum with plates crashing or door slamming!

"It was difficult for us all. But it _was_ also awfully nice to see my students. I have always known Prillie Rogerson and Jack Gilis were meant to be. All those coquettish looks she sent him over the edge of her Testament! And how she always had him do her arithmetics! But Anthony Pye and Barbara Shaw- no, I would never have dreamt of that! And, I must say, seeing them made me feel quite _elderly._"

Nan regarded Mother's fiery golden tresses- the whiteness of her almost flawless skin- and smiled finally.

"What nonsense you are talking, Mother, really! I haven't heard a rot like this in a while, and I have Kitty Blair at school."

Mrs. Blythe clung to this trinket of Nan's good will.

"Well, they do make me feel old. It's just as well I got to see Aunt Di. _She_ makes me feel the exact opposite- and that's at long last. I haven't been here with a visit for scandalously long…"

Nan took a deep breath, waiting for the explanation. But when it didn't come,

"Indeed," she answered coolly.

There, the brick was dropped. Nan wasn't used to talking back to neither of her parents. She felt aghast momentarily. But it didn't last long and it gave her a rather queer, satisfying sensation. Mother would _have_ _to_ speak now, wouldn't she?

She didn't speak, though, for what seemed to Nan an eternity. And when she finally did, her voice was perfectly calm and benign.

"If there is anything you want to ask about, Nan, I want you to be open. You used to be open with me- why aren't you now?"

All the wind was taken out of Nan's sails. She expected Mother to grow angry, to scold her- and it would have been rightfully so. Hadn't she been audacious?

Nan peeked at her gingerly. Mother was serene and expectant, but the usual luster in her lovely eyes was all gone, which gave the whole face a stridently sad look. Why hadn't she noticed it earlier?

She suddenly felt vile beyond compare. How could she behave this childishly and believe she was urging an mature talk?

She put her head on Mother's shoulder.

"Mother, I'm sorry. It seems all I do these days is apologize- I don't know what's come over me. I didn't mean to hurt you- it's just…"

Anne Blythe didn't wait a tick to embrace her girl.

"It's alright, dearest," she swayed Nan in her arms like a little child and the latter suddenly felt an overwhelming need to cry, just like one. She hadn't cried upon receiving the news from Uncle Davy or during the funeral- she couldn't. The tears just wouldn't come then. Now they did, and in a excessive abundance.

"I understand you. Much more than you probably think I do," Mother pulled away to wipe them off Nan's cheeks. "When Matthew passed away I didn't shed a tear _at first _and I blamed myself for it, until Marilla comforted me…"

Nan looked up to Mother's face in bewilderment. She had discerned Nan's exact feelings so easily! They still shared that wonderful understanding, which she had feared to be gone when she found out about Walter.

"It's a pity that I have something to blame myself for yet again- and there is noone or nothing to comfort me now," Mother went on and Nan interrupted in a desperate effort to prove her last assertion wrong.

"Mother Dearwums," she pleaded, pilfering Jem's old nickname for her. "You shouldn't blame yourself- you cannot! Aunt Marilla did miss you, but she never thought that you turned her back on her. I would _know. _I read all your letters to her- and told her everything about the happenings at Ingleside- and she knew you would come eventually. She said so herself. She didn't know about Walter then- but _now_ she does!"

Mother let out a sigh- and there was at least _a bit _of mitigation in it.

"But that's not what you wanted to talk to me about, is it?"

"No. But it's not important anymore, it's just… Just…"

Anne Blythe smiled slightly.

"This 'just' must be quite grave if it stumps you so."

Nan then resolved to reveal everything, just to let Mother go home on these loving good terms.

"I couldn't understand why you would keep Walter's typhoid a secret from everyone but me" she said plainly.

"We didn't mean to, darling, it just came about so. Shirley only found out when he came home for Christmas- and he was scared just to death- and I didn't want to put you through it, too. Since it could have been spared you, I reckoned it would be for the better. But, also, Nan… I was afraid myself. That was such a close call- and the more people knew about it, the more it seemed to worsen. I didn't want to tell you, because I didn't want to _admit_ how serious the situation was."

It took Nan a few deep breaths to maintain composure.

"It _is_ all over now!" Mother hurried, seeing how fragile her words had made Nan. "He's safe and sound, Susan's at the helm. She seems only to leave the kitchen to bring the food to his bedside these days."

Nan laughed- and it felt so natural and unconstrained to laugh at Mother's witty digs!

"I'm afraid I have to go now, dear. We're leaving on the early train tomorrow, and I think I need to hustle Rilla if I want her to pack her things on time. Have I ever told you how I loathe rebuking you?"

"You didn't have to," Nan shook her head.

"I also yearn to talk to my Di before I leave- and I presume you are just as eager to talk to _yours_. Oh, look, there they are!" Mother waved her hand indicatively before kissing Nan's cheek and stepping inside.

Nan stood up and shielded her eyes from the last rays of the sunset with an open hand. Who was Mother talking about- apart from Di? She saw her twin not that far away; she was climbing up a hill in the maple alley, at Jack's arm. They seemed to be on the best of terms, with Diana babbling cheerfully and Jack listening attentively.

Then they both turned back and saw her- and at the same time started waving their hands. They both wore wide, genuine smiles on their faces and looked strikingly similar to each other.

* * *

_I don't know if this is the right place, but then I can't think of anywhere else. __I hope I'm not shooting myself in the foot right now, but I would like to have a request if I may. _

_*spoiler alert*_

_has any one of you read 'The Blythes Are Quoted'? I only read the translation and it seems that some parts are missing. I read on some blog recently that the original mentions Anne's two granddaughters, Di Meredith and little Rilla Ford and also Di Blythe's mysterious beau, who are not present in my version. would it be possible for someone to tell me what were those parts all about? I would be most grateful because I would like to keep my stories compatible._


	15. Nan's correspondence

_Red Rose_

_Toronto, P. E. I._

_Thursday, January 14th._

_Nantucket, hello!_

_I'm not sure whether I really ought to thank You for Your last letter… One part of me- the one which Leslie West brought up- keeps on at me, clamoring how it's a civil thing to do. However, there is also this other part, quite sulky, which doesn't sit well with the idea. __Why, didn't I get some spanking! I understand You're mad at me, but let me explain and maybe You will exonerate me at least from some of my sins._

_I knew about Walter's typhoid, true. It's also true that I should have told You all about it. I had meant to, honest. But then I came to Avonlea, and saw You so happy… and I simply couldn't bring myself to do it. And You cannot blame me for it, Nan. It's all Your own fault. You're never **just** happy. You beam. If You had seen Your own smile… The sparkles in that nut- brown eyes of Yours… You wouldn't blame me. _

_Also, that was the only reason why I didn't want to talk about Your family. And I must say I felt rather offended when You said I was bored by them. Did You really think that I was? Why, Nan, don't You know me better than that? _

_Don't be angry with me. Please. Look now, I quit smoking. My pals tease me that I've finally decided to go for Divinity School. And I bear with it, mind you. What's more, because of our little stroll, my ankle took a turn for the worse. Looks like I won't be able to play football this year, after all. Don't You think I'm punished enough already?_

_Jokes apart, though, I **have** decided- finally! I've been thinking about what you told me for a fortnight, day in, day out… And I think I know. But I won't tell You. I'll let You guess, we'll see how well You'll do._

_My folks are coming back soon and I can't wait to see them, especially Persis. I've missed the fidget somehow. She wrote to me recently that she has some big news for me and for you girls, you and Di. Let us hope she's not getting married to some Japanese. Although, you would probably make a lovely bridesmaid in a kimono._

_I am very sorry for writing such a short letter. I have maths test tomorrow, and I have to hit the books, like it or lump it. I will write a longer one on Sunday. You'll probably be in the middle of writing back to this one when You get it, but oh, well… You probably won't mind, will You? And, I really wanted to clear the air immediately. I can't stand quarreling with You, I'm not Jerry Meredith. _

_Remember me to everyone in Avonlea, will you? Tell Mrs. Wright that fond recollections of her turkey come back to haunt me at night. _

_Take care, lovely._

_Kenneth._

* * *

_Queen's Academy_

_Charlottetown, P. E. I._

_Monday, January 2nd._

_Dear Nan,_

_thank you for another letter. We read it together with Carl; he's sending you a hug. He also wanted me to add that he's not carrying any lizards in his pockets so you needn't squeak and run away. He says you did so once, in the Valley- did you? I never know if I can believe Carl._

_I'm doing fine. Maybe- **maybe** I'll be able to get the medal this year. I didn't make the football team- Carl did- so I have more time. But you don't have to feel sorry for me; I didn't even want to play in the team that much. I'll keep myself busy; those aviation books you sent me for Christmas are swell, thanks. _

_Aunt Leslie and Uncle Owen came here today, together with Persis. She is… She's impossible. I've always thought you a windbag, but she's just… You're not a patch on her. By the time they left, my head was dizzy. She had this cat, Minette, with her and it kept snorting at me. She said that Minette knows good people when she sees them and that I must have been a very bad boy away from home. Then Uncle Owen asked her if she was looking for someone after her own heart so she started sulking and left me alone… At least for a while. She and Carl joined forces and teased me all day long, until Aunt Leslie got angry at last. Carl left very soon then, but Persis didn't seem bothered._

_Oh, and Nan, if she writes to you about it- I **don't** have a girlfriend here, at Queens. A colleague came by to borrow my notes, and Persis wouldn't let me be about it. And I don't even like Amy that much! _

_But it was nice, altogether, to spend some time with them. They took me and Carl to a restaurant, because Uncle Owen was in Japan on my birthday, and he's my godfather and all that... Persis ordered fish and when it arrived, Carl asked what kind of fish it was. You know how he is. And since Persis spent a month last summer with us all, she must have known too, so she was just jeering. She said, 'I don't know, it hasn't introduced itself yet. How unmannerly, isn't it?' And all that with the most innocuous smile. I felt sorry for the waiter, he tried so hard not to laugh! And **then **he brought her an additional portion of ice-cream from the chef who, apparently, had really liked the story. _

_I don't have much else to write, Nan. You always say I write such short letters- but it's not that I don't want to write to you or that I don't like your letters. I like them a lot. But I never know what to write in letters myself. They just end up so short, every time. _

_Tell everyone I'm sending my greetings and don't worry about all those old gossips. It's not worth it._

_Your brother,_

_Shirley._

* * *

_Ingleside _

_Glen St. Mary, P. E. I_

_Tuesday, February 2nd._

_Nan-nest!_

_Thanks so much for the last letter. You know my love for long letters, don't you? Six pages is just about enough, **but** if you should feel an irresistible need to commit eight of them- don't hesitate. Make it ten. _

_And thank you for the notes on Aristotle. I just couldn't get the gist of this probable impossibility and impossible probability… My coursebook is helpless with him, it's better for Plato. I'll send it with this letter so you can see for yourself. Thank Delia for the recipes, too; I cannot even express how jealous I am when I think of her little notebook at **your** disposal! You won't even have much use of them- and I would love to try them so! Ned must have brought so many other from so many places… You had better copy all of them before June! Take particular care of these violet- petal cookies. Our first batch of bullar emerged from the oven today; and the whole house is now filled with cinnamon scent- bathrooms and the cellar included. Walter wolfed **three **of them, still warm. I presume they will be a staple of our menu for the next few weeks. Susan cooks whatever Walter asks for. Tomorrow we're having Swedish pancakes for supper, although Susan is horrified at the prospect of making batter without any baking soda. 'What ideas those Europeans have!' She's sending her best recipe for strawberry pies in return._

_I am with Walter now, in his room. Father let him get up for the first time today, but we had to escape from the kitchen when Mrs. Elliot suddenly popped in- with Mary at her side, of course. 'Getting better or not getting better,' Walter said, 'I'm going right back to bed. Mary's prattle may not give me another round of typhoid- but a headache alright!' We let Susan and Miss Oliver deal with them both, for Rilla had cleared out even before we did. Poor Baby, still remembers that dried cod. _

_Mrs. Elliot had me promise I would write and ask whether you attend Methodists' church meetings. Well, now, do you? If so, for your own twin's sake, stop. I don't think I could take another harangue about why you shouldn't without either bursting out with laughter… or some very rude obscenities. Don't frown when you're reading this, Nan. Mrs. Elliot **is** lovely, but not when you have to spend an entire winter talking to her about Methodists, heathens and rompers for over-the-harbor babies. Oh, but she sends her warmest thoughts to you, too._

_**Mary** had nothing to pass on to you. I would assume you're rather devastated by it. Now, would you believe it: she is said to have **a beau**! Nobody seems to know who he is exactly, so I'm still rather incredulous, but… I heard Jessie Reese telling Minnie Clow that it's one of the Douglases' boys… But I just can't help thinking it's Bertie Shakespeare. Mrs. Elliot knows nothing; you should see the condescending smiles Susan gives her now! _

_Of course, I wouldn't want it to come across wrong... but you cannot imagine how glad I am to have Walter home. It's not that I'm glad he was sick, you know it. But now that he is making a recovery, I can write to you in all honesty. _

_I was **craving** company for the last few months. I didn't even realize how I had disaccustomed myself to being home back at Queens! This whole winter I was all bored and irritated, because I felt I was wasting time. Dad was tied up; Rilla is not exactly what I would call a great conversationalist and Miss Oliver irks me, I must confess; she is always so sad and brooding. Mother says I need to take her life and experiences into consideration, but I daresay her life is more than alright now. She's young, good-looking, comfortably accommodated and engaged to a dashingly handsome man- you ought to see him, Nan; he's this dark, romantic type you always swoon at- so she has no real reason to moon around. I guess it's just a habit of hers. Sometimes, she looks at me at the table in a way which makes me feel stupid for laughing too much or being generally too light- hearted. As if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and wanted others to have a share, too. _

_Sunday School it's not exactly what I would like it to be, either. I'm already running low on patience. These children just do not learn. Last Sunday, I asked Briony Kirk about Adam. 'What was Adam made of?' 'Soil.' Briony is rarely prepared so I was pleasantly surprised and went on, asking what God did to Adam afterwards. Well, what do you know, **He left him in the sun to dry and harden**. At least, that's how Briony would have it. And when we were practicing, them Drew boys asked whether they could ask for cake and not bread in Lord's Prayer. Remember how Susan always scoffed at Mrs. Drew because she never baked anything? Well, it's her children's education that's suffering from it now. You cannot imagine how jealous I am of your kids, your little Jack… And the big Jack, too! What I don't understand is how you could say he's quiet. His last letter was **four** pages long! But, as for the school- I would have burst my sides with laughter as lately as in November, but now I'm only feeling discouraged. I cannot wait until we go to Redmond…_

_I have some big news concerning it. Jem probably wrote to you so you know that the Keiths bought the house from him for very little money. Well, this little is just about enough for Jem to support himself through Medical College. Dad was a bit angry at first because Jem didn't say a word; but now he's more proud than anything that his son managed to tackle everything on his own. He says Walter may go to Redmond in the fall if he is strong enough- and if I am not overestimating my strength I think I could coax him into letting **us** go, too. What would you say to that?_

_Please, Nan. Let's go. I don't want to wait another year- I feel there's so much that we're missing out on. And we've been away from each other so long… I miss you terribly. I still haven't forgiven you for not coming home for winter break. 'I have so much to do' is not a good excuse, young lady. _

_As for your post scriptum… Jem and Co. came home on Saturday… Faith and Jerry were here yesterday and he was rather horrible, rarely vouchsafing to speak himself and either not hearing what Walter and I said to him or taking it as some allusions. 'What did you mean by **that, **Di?' 'I don't see why you should think I'm in a bad mood, Walt.' I tried to tease something out of him, but whenever I barely mentioned your name, he just looked at me gravely- and wordlessly. Eventually, Faith lost her cool and I almost found something… Almost. 'You are just the limit!' she yelled. 'It's no wonder Nan didn't want to…' But here he stared her into silence and they left on some excuse soon afterwards. If I were you now… I'd know where to dig._

_What color is your spring coat? I don't want you angry at my similar apparel again. You would think that with our looks we shouldn't have any problems in this respect. Don't you have a knack for arguing, Nannie._

_I think I've written enough… and in any case, I sure did write what you wanted to know most. So, besides ruminating over Jerry's sulks give some though to what I've written about Redmond. Give Delia, Uncle and Auntie a hug from me and write back as soon as you can. _

_Your twin,_

_Di. _

_P.S. Don't you loose sleep over Jerry. His tantrum is his spot of bother. You have nothing to blame yourself for and he had nothing to get angry at. I have to say I don't understand why you should **care** about it so much in the first place. You two quarrel all the time and somehow always find your way back. Why should this time be any different?_

_P.S. 2. How many 'pretties' do I have to put before 'please' for you to cave in and go to Redmond this year? I really am desperate at this point, Nan; I'll do whatever it takes._

* * *

_**well.. I think some AN is in order. Red Rose is a name for the Ford house I coined myself- because of the roses scene from 'Anne's House of Dreams'. isn't it too preconceived maybe? also, I hope Ken's letter retreived him a little. I was planting the seed for my next story here and since that one is supposed to focus on Di her letter is the longest one. I meant her to be this witty tease that would keep digging and pulling little jokes at everyone. did I go overboard and make her just mean and malicious? I would be happy to know what you think so that I could change it if it's needed and if time allows. :-)**_


	16. April revelations

"No," Nan moaned, and crossed out another sentence. "This doesn't sound like him at all."

Sunshine had found its way through the sheer curtains of Avonlea School windows and was diverting her attention; she simply couldn't work, knowing that it only took one turn of the head to watch the shimmer of Barry's Pond. It was mid April, it was spring… She seemed unable to focus, however pleasing her task was.

She had finished marking grammar tests a while ago, and was now poring over a thick notebook. It was in a dismal condition, dog- eared and scribbled all over.

"Oh, it's all just wrong!" she angrily threw her blue pen away.

"All of it? Why, I did prepare for the test, Miss Blythe!" a timid assurance came from the other side of the classroom, near the door.

Nan almost hopped on her chair.

"Jack… You scared me!" she playfully shook her finger at him. "And no, it wasn't all wrong, you all did well this time. This was… er… something unrelated."

She hastily slipped the notebook into her bag, before asking the boy in.

"What brings you here so late?"

"This," Jack held out his hand. He had brought a packet from his mother.

Mrs. Priscilla Gillis was known for her sewing skills in the whole of Avonlea. Nan had already had a taste of it with the Gillis twins' dresses. The two were always most exquisitely dressed, even if Geri had a knack for losing buttons and ripping sashes.

She had asked her for a blouse; a filmy, flouncy delight of a blouse of white chantilly lace. It was supposed to be her first new thing, after two months of rather austere clothing. Mother had forbidden her a mourning garment, but Nan had obeyed only partially. Dark, simple blouses and pursed lips did not make a fetching image, but somehow it felt good to do it for Aunt Mariila, to honor her with as much as was allowed her.

But it was time for change. It was spring; Aunt Marilla had loved spring, even if she would not have been heard saying it out loud.

"And this," Jack stretched his other arm. He had also brought a little posy of buttercups.

"You needn't have," Nan melted in a smile. Then she looked at him shrewdly. "I would call you a darling, but I suppose you're too old for such a designation."

He grinned, but did not acquiesce.

"May I see mine?" he glanced at the pile of grammar tests.

"You shouldn't really, but you may," Nan handed over his almost flawless sheet. He was a very bright boy, but it seemed to her that he did not work systematically. He _did_ sail through the curriculum, making very few mistakes indeed. But those mistakes were always of the same kind. When the material required comprehension, he would shine. Whenever there was something to learn by heart, he failed.

"It's good. You did study this time," she said with a hidden design.

He bridled.

"I always do."

"It's not nice when your golden boy lies to you, Jack," she said in a tone of confidence. It gave his face a funny look; halfway between gladness at being anointed so and shame at being caught red- handed. Resolving to treat him as an adult, she added, "Are you considering Queens?"

His bright blue eyes fled aside.

"Would you like me to go?"

"It's not exactly an answer to my question, is it?" she smiled at him, a bit wryly. Some other student might have thought it vicious, but Jack knew her well enough to know she was just bantering.

But suddenly, she grew serious.

"Do you, yourself, want to go? Because I wouldn't ask about anything else."

"I don't know… I don't like cramming,' he admitted truthfully this time and looked at her probingly. Not finding reproach in her face, he ventured, "I know Ma wants me to go, and you probably…"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted. "Of course I would like to know I have inspired someone to go. And I think it would be good for you. But it doesn't matter, unless you want to go yourself."

Jack smiled knowingly.

"And, in any case, there is Sally. She wants to go… She will go, Miss Blythe, for sure," he said reassuringly.

Nan nodded and smiled, but only half- heartedly. Jack was too much of a child yet to know that _wanting_ to go and going were not necessarily the same thing in Sally's case.

In March she had not had much work. In an effort to fill the void, she had taken to spending her afternoons with Rachel, who had grown especially close to Aunt Marilla in her final months. The girl was very well- versed as concerned the gossip facet of Avonlea's life. Nan had learned everything she could wish about her students and their parents… and more than that.

Among this newly acquired knowledge was Sally's rather dismal condition. Matt's aversion to his little sister became more accountable for in light of the fact that his stepmother had stood in for his mother all too soon, barely six months after the funeral. Only five years his senior and as poor as a church mouse; that was, until the marriage with his quite wealthy father.

It seemed horrible to conceive of the world in these terms, but Nan had to accept it. Matt had lost a lot of his father's attention when the latter remarried. Mrs. Richard Davies lost it, in turn, at her daughter's arrival. Mr. Davies fell head over heels for the little one and, Nan thought, no one could blame him.

This was, however, the source of Sally's misery. Threatened, resentful, envious, whichever of those- her mother seemed to do everything against her. Sally's positively hideous clothes, the scarcity of toys and time for play were all her doing.

Nan balled her fists angrily. She wanted to do something about it, very much so, but she didn't know how to go about it not to exacerbate the situation. She turned livid every time she saw Mrs. Davies in church; she herself was always spruced up, no fear.

"Miss Blythe?" Jack asked and his tone suggested he was repeating his call.

Nan chided herself for this lack of attention, but before she could respond, an amused sound was heard from the door.

"Too many Jacks for one room and one girl," she laughed quietly when another blond entered the classroom.

"Mom was wondering what was taking you so long. I have a sandwich for you… and I brought Delia's bike. I thought we could go for a ride in the woods."

Little Jack started from his chair, feeling duty- bound.

"Thank your mother, will you?" Nan commanded rather absent- mindedly. It seemed to her that the other Jack had something important to share. She already knew him well enough to construe from behavior what he would not express in words. What could induce him to drag her out of Avonlea? "Oh, and Hetty will have to retake this test, I regret to say. But tell her not to worry, she only lacked a few points."

* * *

"I won!" Nan cried out triumphantly, jumping off the bike. She lay on the ground, her breath bated with effort; moss served her as the most comfortable of pillows. She had lost her buttercup posy; a few piteous flowers were hanging about her waist. "That is, unless you were giving me head start?"

But Jack was panting thickly, as he was dropping on the grass next to her.

"I _wasn't_! I would never 'ave proposed biking, 'ad I known," he gasped with some difficulty, causing her to laugh.

"I was well- trained with Jem and... and Ken, and... Aren't we a bit too far? We won't make it for dinner."

Jack took out two sandwiches. Judging by the uneven crust, he must have prepared them himself. But she appreciated his choice of ingredients, which clearly showed his knowledge of her preferences.

"We don't have to hurry. Delia got a letter from Ned, she's cooking. Lentil soup," he sighed with visible reluctance.

Nan smirked before biting into her sandwich.

"And tell me, Wright... If Delia was cooking, why should Aunt Diana worry about my being late? She knows Delia always takes hours in the kitchen."

Jack flinched a bit, turning his head away.

"You're a bit too bright, you know?" he said, handing over a bottle with lemonade. "I forgot about glasses, I'm sorry."

"Not at all. Were you leaving in hurry?" she asked innocently.

"Don't push it, Nan!" his laughter was loud, but not entirely honest. "I wanted to talk to you alone. I think... I _know_, rather... that Ned is coming back soon. I mean, Delia got the letter and she was so happy..."

Nan froze, the bottle halfway to her mouth.

"She will come back to White Sands, of course. Matt's wedding is soon. I was wondering whether you'll be staying. You said so at first. That you'll most probably be here two years," he sent her a probing glance.

Nan shook her head a little, then drooped it, suddenly disconcerted by something which had been bringing her only joy thus far.

"You don't... want to stay?"

"Even if I wanted, Jack, I probably couldn't. Most parents think I'm not pushing the children enough."

"Mrs. Davies is the only one who said so," he pressed.

"Yes, but... There's something else. We're going to Redmond, Walter and Di and I."

Jack smiled; it seemed to Nan very rueful.

"Right. You all go somewhere. Queens, Redmond... What is so important about it?" he asked, but she did not know how to respond. She did not know _what_ it was. It was just out there, somewhere; all the 'ologies and isms' which she wanted to discover so. "Di must be elated. How is she doing?"

Nan noticed the lack of question about her brother. It was unusual- and rather puzzling.

"What are you asking about?" she went about it with a question. She knew asking questions was a safe way to tease something out of _most_ lads.

"No-o-o, nothing," he positively flushed.

"Jack!" Nan exclaimed, finally putting two and two together. How could she have been so blind? Letters... wresting the telephone receiver out of her hands... sending greetings...

Unfortunately, she was too far away from Di to be safe in the knowledge about her twin's feelings. So when Jack smiled at her, rather sheepishly and pitiably, all she could do was rest her head on his shoulder.

"Would you then, at least, go to Matt's wedding with me?"

Nan perked up her head, frantically racking her brain. She needed a good excuse, and she needed it quick.

"I don't think... I mean, I'm not..."

"Welcome? What could _possibly_ make you think that?" Jack cut in with a rougish smirk. When Nan bugged her eyes out, he snickered. "I know you don't like him, but we're _friends,_ Nan. We actually talk to each other."

She hung her head down. She would never have expected him to see through her so easily!

"I just thought we were friends, too," he went on, gathering it was no good waiting for her to respond.

"We are," she insisted fervently.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" the query was peaceful, but firm.

"I didn't want you two to quarrel because of it. And..." she stammered.

"And?"

"I was also afraid you'd be mad at me. After all, I didn't give him the most tactful of refusals."

But he also didn't give me the most gentlemanly of receptions, she thought sourly.

"I wouldn't have," Jack assured her in his simple manner, stood up and stretched his hand to help her up.

Then he picked up Delia's bike for her.

"Just... tell me when Jake Donnel pops the question, Blythe, will you?"

Nan giggled and lightly slapped his shoulder.

"You're a bit too bright, you know?" she repeated his own words from half an hour ago.

Upon their arrival home, Jack's assumptions were borne out; Ned was to arrive at the beginning of May. Delia's eyes were filled with particular light when she burst out of the house to break the news to Nan. Nan's eyes, in turn, lacklustered at the discovery.

She retired to her room for the rest of the day. She was working diligently over Delia's soup and cheesecake with strawberry jam. Late at night, she finally closed her notebook, opened the window and confided in the last of flowers on cherry trees,

"I think I _will_ do it, after all."

* * *

_it's a leapfrog, I know. but I was gone long. moreover, there is a lot more to happen in later chapters, so I probably need to economize on these ones. _

_and, to all those who have subscribed to this story- I'm so terribly sorry for the flood of emails which you're getting these days. I'm rewriting the old chapters, I was having issues with dialogue punctuation, which I only sorted out recently. the story will read better with those changes, I hope._


	17. Another Jonah day

It didn't start with anything particular and that was precisely what made Nan blush to the day of her death to be reminded of it.

She too, like little Rilla, liked to wake up a bit too early every morning to lie in for a while and wonder what pleasant surprises the day kept for her. But not then.

Just then, she woke up being sure the whole day would be perfectly awful. First, she couldn't comb out a tangle in her hair for a good quarter; then, a zipper in her new skirt refused to cooperate so long that she had to give up on trying to do it up. She then realized that, as Jack had gone to Carmody early in the morning to buy a suit for Matt Davies's wedding, she would not get her usual lift to school. She hastily slipped into the first thing that got into her hands; it was her old yellow calico dress. She caught a sight of herself in the mirror and frowned disgruntledly. She looked like a dowdy and moody provincial teacher. And she felt one, too.

At the table she was not comforted. The smell wafting in the kitchen presaged she would be, but Aunt Diana happened to burn Nan's share of french toast. Nan was eating dispassionately, waiting for her go at the paper- _why_ did Uncle Fred always take so long with it?- when Emily unintentionally overturned her glass of chokeberry juice which spilled on Nan's wristband.

She started from her chair, before the stain got any bigger. Having examined the damage, she cast the child a look which would perturb a far less vulnerable creature.

"I'll take it out," Delia promised promptly. "Just take it off quick- the lemon juice will do it."

Nan would have loved to slap Emily's gawky little hands. Not severely, of course. But it would do the little one good if someone acted a bit more strict with her at last.

She had to change again- this time the zipper did work and she pulled out her new blouse. It lifted her spirits a bit; she was still a moody and provincial teacher, but at least no one could call her dowdy.

Before leaving, she sent the paper a languishing look. It was her lifeline and she hated to start the day without getting acquainted with the latest news. But there was no time for it.

She gruntingly strided to school, the flounces of her blouse bouncing with every step. On the way, she almost bumped into Mrs. Charles Sloane and, although she mustered all her good manners to apologize and greet the neighbor politely, she still overheard what the lady said behind her back.

"Primp and prink, of course, that she would. And my Lotty is still far behind her cousins from Carmody in arithemtics. Oh, but the teacher has other things on her mind, as Mrs. Davies says. And catching a man has never been done in a gingham dress."

Nan burned with resentment. She imagined turning around and smashing Mrs. Sloane on the head with a thick, heavy arithmetics book she was carrying in her bag. She had had it shipped from Montreal for the precise purpose of helping Lotty with her equations; the child was no good with figures, and also positively lazy.

Nan _did_ disapprove of little Charlotte's methods; sometimes the girl brought her little gifts like home made plum puffs or bon bons which her father would bring her from Carmody. Somehow, such occurences always coincided with Lotty's not having done the homework. Nan always distributed the goods among the fry and kept Lotty after class with a clear conscience. She tried to help, very diligently, but she sometimes felt shamefaced and guilty for having to force herself into this teacher duty of hers. She disliked little Charlotte, to tell the truth. She had taken against her on the very first day and her anitpathy had not passed. But she tried hard to fight it or at least not to show it- oh, the very thought of her smooth- tongued ways or the obsequious look in her Sloane blue eyes irritated so! The girl would always try to please her somehow and to escape some school effort thereby. Nan loathed that, even if Lotty was just a small child.

She entered the classroom with ground teeth, which gave her face a vehement expression. The young fry of Avonlea froze in their seats. They had seen Miss Blythe cross before- when the boys ate cookies in class or when Rachel Keith got so engrossed with Tom Fletcher and the geometry assignment which the teacher had had them do together, that she did not react when Miss Blythe called her to read the result- twice, at that. Nan had raised her voice sometimes, but there wasn't just anger to be heard in it. It also rang with disappointment and some hurt- and it made them all bend over backwards in making amends for their little misdeeds.

But they had never seen Miss Blythe so stern or so- so cold. The door slammed behind her back and there was no mistaking it for inattention on her part.

The greeting which Nan got every school day was unusually quiet and faltering just then. Sally didn't ask about anything- little Jack didn't smile chummily- Rachel instinctively moved away from Thomas Fletcher as far as she could.

"Your geography coursebooks, please," Nan snapped, unwinding the map. Then she called Abby Macpherson to her desk and examined her knowledge of Canada's rivers. She did it deliberately, knowing that the girl hated geography more than anything.

Next, she had little Jack up. She assumed that he would come unprepared, but he seemed to have studied and answered most of her questions- and they were mean and exacting questions, constructed in such a way that the subject sought after would not be obviously known. She did him injustice with the average note, she knew it.

Oh, later on, she could not fathom what had gotten into her. She sent a whole bunch of her little students back to their desks with undeserved fails- and she made them feel they could never exonerate themselves from such ignorance.

She went through geography at such a pace that she would forever be held responsible for the Avonlea children confusing different types of soil. Her dictation came without an earlier announcement, but full of long words of the most unpredictable spelling instead. When she was writing on the board, no one could be sure whether the unpleasant sound was the chalk squeaking or her teeth gritting.

Then, came the arithmetics.

"Lotty Sloane, your homework, if you will," Nan said, seemingly poring over the class book.

Lotty rose, shaking in her boots. They were white pumps with ridiculously flamboyant bows, bigger than her feet almost. And the woman who sent her daughter to school dress as she was, had the nerve to upbrade her, Nan!

"I- I haven't done it- M... m... miss," poor Lotty gasped.

"A-ha!" said the redoubtable flash in Nan's eyes. She rose from her chair. She had noticed a greasy packet on Lotty's desk. Doughnuts, evidently.

"Charlotte _Sloane_!"

Nan could never remember what she said to the girl exactly. But, even if what she said was true, she certainly showed undue ferocity and cruelty in her way of rendering that truth. It sparked fear in all her students; Sally had to gasp for breath- little Amy Bell started to wail- Jack bugged out his eyes in painful disbelief- and his sisters clasped each other's hands.

But Lotty- she took the brunt of Nan's soreness. She stood in her desk with trembling lips, wringing her fingers. As Nan's harangue dragged on, Lotty's sloane- blue eyes gradually filled with tears.

All at once, she perked her head up, collected all her books and her dirty packahe- oh, how it rankled with Nan to find out later that there were doughnuts in it, indeed, but not allocated for her!- and dashed for the door.

Or rather, endeavored to do so. Lotty was portly and considerably maladroit. She moved rather slowly and, as she was reaching for the door, her foot entangled in one of those ridiculous pump bows. Nan, already recovered, rushed to help her up- but then the child uttered a fearful moan, picked herself up and veritably flew out.

After a moment of heavy silence, Nan said, her throat much clutched,

"You may go to dine now," and left promptly, without looking back.

When the children came back after dinner- in a slightly decreased number- they did not find their teacher at school and felt relieved to disperse.

In the meantime, Nan had slipped in through the back door of Lone Willow Farm without anyone noticing. She fled to her room and cried bitterly into the smallest of her pretty pillows.

Some teacher she was!

What would everyone say? Di- Walter- Miss Oliver- Mother- oh, _what_ would Mother say? Yes, Nan knew the story of Anthony Pye and the single spanking in Mother's teaching career- Mr. Pye was a jolly man who recounted it to Nan himself, hooting with laughter- but what Mother had done was acceptable. She had punished a balky boy, who had played a trick on her. _She_ had scared out of school a little girl. And if Lotty did show some disrespect in her tardiness, the truth was that Nan had let her personal feelings interfere. She felt it was something inexcusable in a teacher.

Oh, it was unbearable. How would she look at her- at them all- on Monday? She could not forget the surprise- the disappointment- in Jack's bright blue eyes, the eyes which had only been filled with good feelings for her thus far. She had reveled in it so- and now she had ruined everything.

She had been so hateful to all of them! She could already hear Mr. Norman Douglas booming with triumph- Mr. Douglas was always booming- and chuckling his loud, satisfied chuckle, as in the rare moments when he outtalked his brother-in-law.

It wasn't that Mr. Douglas didn't like her. She had an umpteen of the spirit, flame and laughter which he liked in girls; and so he was very fond of her, best of the three Blythe daughters, although nowhere near as much as of Faith Meredith. He always called her 'the little Blythe fidget' and Nan, rather oddly, did not take exception to this strange pet name.

But Mr. Douglas had been rather dismissive of her teaching plans and ambitions.

"You, girl, a teacher? Ho, ho, ho! I can see _that! _Go and pick a good switch for yourself in that valley you all run around in! You'll use it a good deal, girl, I say you'll use it!"

"Indeed, I will not!" Nan had cried indignantly; she had wished to 'govern by affection' like Mother and was just as apt to cling to her wishes tenaciously.

"You will- you bet you will! You'll be flailing it the first time you get riled up. And you'll get riled up your first day- your second at best! You're that full of temper, girl, you're bursting with it! Ho, ho, h- hey, where the dickens are you going? Why, look now, she's gotten in a huff! But she mustn't! Alright, come, come now- I apologize, girl, I apologize. Forgive and forget. And have some cookies- and more tea. Ellen's tea ain't no shallamagouslem, you know. But- the little Blythe fidget a _teacher_! Ho, ho, ho!"

Even Mrs. Elliot would not defend her from his digs now. Why, she would be disappointed with Nan's bringing shame to all women teachers of the world- and to all of its Presbyterians. Nan wondered whether she would now lose the privilege of being invited to Mrs. Elliot's famous doughnuts... Doughnuts!

Nan lashed her pillow with a clenched fist. To be sent off by a packet of doughtnuts!

"Is it at least relatively safe for me to go in or should I let the pillow bear with you just a while longer?" Delia's voice rang with humor unexpectedly and Nan shirked rather wildly, startled.

Delia had, in fact, seen Nan through the window on her way back from school. She had been choking slightly, visibly trying to withhold tears. Delia, who had had her misgivings since the breakfast incident, promptly put little Tommy to sleep and climbed the stairs to check up on her.

"What happened?" she asked, hanging Nan's cleaned dress over the back of her chair.

Nan took a deep breath to calm herself and produced a reply which proved her failure in the attempt.

"Dad's predictions were right."

"What was that?" Delia retained some patience still.

"I have disgraced my family name," Nan groaned.

Delia forbid herself to laugh, sat down on the bed and, as was becoming her habit, gently stroke Nan's shoulder.

"Do tell."

"I- I've humiliated myself at school today. I was angry- and I lost my temper- and I vented it on Lotty Sloane- I told you about that arithmetics-"

Delia nodded her head, while listening to Nan's chaotic recapitulation. She did rather think that Nan had come it strong. But she also knew that Lotty was a lazy and somewhat spoiled little thing. And she wanted to comfort poor Nan, who looked eight rather than eighteen with this shameful look in her big eyes.

"You take it too much to heart, Nannie. You know, it used to be much worse for those children. When Olivia Sloane-"

Nan interrupted her with a loud moan, cowering deeper into her pillows.

"If you have to comfort me, Delia, by comparing me to Olivia Sloane- why, then I have behaved far worse than I thought!"

Delia bit her tongue.

"I meant to say- you can't be meekness personified at all times. You yield to emotions, of course- because you are a living person, Nan, not a marble statue."

"Well, maybe I should be more of it," Nan said somberly. "It is my duty to set out example."

"Olivia Sloane always claimed to be doing just that. I should know- she used to be my teacher- and all us kids hated her with all of our little mights. But you, Nan- you acted different- and well! Sure you've made mistakes- but many of your students have made progress. Take Sally and your little Jack- why, even Thomas Fletcher! I overheard him once, telling Rachel that ever since you arrived, he had hardly had any troubles with geometry. And- do you surmise _why_ it was so?"

Nan did not answer, far preferring to hear what Delia had to say. She had impressed her- somehow she always seemed to know just the right words to say.

"Because you acted human- and because they liked you for that precisely!" Delia finished fervently.

"Yes, but- Mrs. Davies did not like me- and also for that precisely!" Nan retorted weakly. Then she took Delia's offered hanky and loudly blew her nose."

Delia rolled her eyes.

"As my Ned would say," she kept talking about 'her Ned' those days, as she was counting the scant days till his planned arrival, "Hang Mrs. Davies!"

Nan did smile.

"But the children- they _liked_ me, yes- but now they can't like me. I made a complete idiot of myself. They never could-"

"Now, let us not get so tragic," Delia admonished firmly. "Let us rather come downstairs and have supper. I've made nothing soup. It has never failed in heartening anyone up- not even Emmie!"

"Soups won't minister to a mind diseased," Nan said, disconsolately still. But then curiosity got the better of her. "What soup is that?"

It turned out to be a delicious milk soup and it did not fall flat of Delia's promises. Nan _was_ heartened up at the cheerful supper table, with the girls' voices loud in a spat over pieces of Delia's old dolls' tea- set and halvah cookies which Aunt Diana had made to make up for the dismal breakfast.

Nan kept close to Jack. She wanted to hear what he would say about her transgression; somehow she thought he would be less partial than Delia.

But he only shrugged his shoulders.

"You're overacting," was his unhesitating opinion. "She didn't have her homework again and you told her off. What's there to agonize yourself about? You'd better tell me if I bought a good tie, Blythe."

Jack also asked her to go to Carmody with him on Sunday and help him pick up the right suit as he had not managed to decide by himself. Nan agreed readily; she resolved she would ask Aunt Diana for a little sum of her salary and comfort herself fully by way of buying herself a new party dress. She needed some for Redmond and- maybe she _could_ buy one blue? If it was silk, she _should_ look good, despite the color mismatch.

Uncle Fred handed her the paper which he had kept for her since morning- and as Nan's bitterness and shame were beginning to relent under the warmth of the homely atmosphere, a strong, unpleasant knocking was heard on the front door. Jack went to open it; it was Mr. Charles Sloane to see Nan.

She led him to the playing room, having first ventured into her room to pick up a book. She deduced a mental picture of what the next hour would be from Mr. Sloane's frown.

"You will _not_ stick up for yourself," she enjoined her reflection in the mirror. "You'll do penance that way. You'll take your lumps from Mr. Charlie Sloane, of all people- and you won't utter a littlest word of protest or defence. _That_ will serve you right."

Downstairs, Mr. Sloane was waiting to inform her that, as of next school week, his daughter would not be attending school classes. Miss Blythe's guidance would not be needed in her home education; Miss Olivia Sloane would take care of that. _She_ had a way with children. She wouldn't ask the impossible with homeworks- she would be as understanding as it took- finally, she would teach the child arithmetics!

Mr. Sloane was surprised to find that teacher- that proud, shameless daughter of her mother!- so quiet and humble. Did anyone ever seen the like?

But at the mention of arithmetics, Nan finally allowed herself to speak.

"If I may, Mr. Sloane- I'd like Lotty to accept this- to let her know that I'm truly very sorry for my outburst," she produced the Montreal coursebook.

Mr. Sloan took it- examined it- and for some reason turned almost blue in his face.

"Offer me arithmetics books from big cities, that you would" he gasped in exasperation which was inexplicable to Nan and had its roots in his failed hope to put her out of patience so that more would tell against her when he would be telling the story to all his neighbors. "You _are_ your mother's daughter- through and through!" he let out one of his recent, wrathful thoughts.

Nan perked up her head. She had promised not to stick up for _herself_- but no one would insult Mother in her presence! However, Nan did not manage to use her icy tone to inform him that _yes_, she was her mother's daughter and she was as proud of it as she could. She was interrupted by Aunt Diana, who had been eavesdropping shamlessly and now burst into the room with the unspeakable madness of a bosom friend.

"That's enough, _Charlie _Sloane!" she said, rather impolitely. As all of their old friends, she had been addressing him with his full name for years, following the custom and his explicit wish. "You will leave our house this instant- and let me never hear you say a word about Anne Shirley- or any member of her family."

Mr. Sloane opened his mouth to respond- but closed it just as readily, for behind Diana's back stood Fred with a grim expression on his face and his daughter, the witty, _outspoken_ Anne Cordelia; even the little chubby boy in her arms seemed disapproving. More to the back, Jack Wright was opening wide the front door and almost shaking with laughter.

Mr. Sloane left with his nose perked up in the air very haughtily. He did take the book under his arm, though, and Nan was truly glad, hoping it would reach Lotty.

On Monday, she went to school with her heart in her boots. She met the Gilis siblings; they halted at the crossroads with some hesitation and- as Nan was holding her breath- they waited for her. Gerry and Hetty smiled politely and greeted her in their usual cheerful way, relieved to see her more like her usual self, just a bit quieter and meeker. They moved towards the school in veritable leaps and bounds, chatting gaily.

But Jack was there still; wordlessly he stretched his arms, into which Nan surrendered her books. They walked on in silence for a while, but, unbeknown to her, Nan was being examined rather carefully.

"Teacher?" he asked suddenly and Nan felt grateful for being called it and not 'Miss Blythe'.

"Yes?" she almost sang in response.

"You know- Lotty was real sloppy with that homework," he said haltingly- and _comfortingly_!

"Jack!" she exclaimed in astonishment and put her hand on his arm. He did not respond, but handed over the books and smiled with an air of comradeship.

They entered the classroom and, as soon as the children took their seats, Sally's hand shot up.

"Miss Blythe- may I have a question?"

Nan thrilled and answered comingly,

"You may, Sally- always."

Mr. Norman Douglas boomed with laughter- Mother was wonderfully understanding- and Di rubbed it in in a rather un-twinnish manner.

* * *

_Author's Note: well, if it isn't long! I hope you didn't find Nan too cruel- or anything else with the characters simply wrong- do tell if it is so. of course, I would like to know if you liked it, too. :-) I always appreciate feedback. and I'm getting so excited- we're only two chapters away from coming back to Glen St. Mary and this part of the story which is going to be most fun to write. I can't wait- and since this one was partially ready for almost a week I think I'll spend a few happy hours writing another chapter. I hope you can bear such a flood. :-)_


	18. Nan insists on pink lining

One spring morning, when lilies of the valley were interweaving Avonlea gardens and 'lilacs first in dooryards bloom'd', as Nan punned, a certain accomodation train pulled into the sleepy White Sands station. It was very seldom for any passengers to come by this train, so the station agent was surprised to see a little family crowd waiting to meet it.

Emily yawned and curled up cosily. Nan begrudged her the privilege of being held in Jack's strong arms, free to fall asleep right at the train station. It seemed to her that Jack himself did not fall asleep just because he was holding the little one. Aunt Diana and Uncle Fred also looked positively drowsy.

But Delia and Sarah were both wide awake and almost beside themselves with impatience. When the train whistled from afar they both sprang up and the bench, on which Nan was still sitting, started shaking dangerously. She stood up; she had to fight a battle with herself to do it, but she also did not want to meet Delia's husband for the first time sitting in the mud of the railway station.

There- the train was coming- Sarah would have run, had Delia not kept her safely away- an obscure figure flickered in one of the windows, possibly waving, Nan couldn't see- little Tommy woke up to the noise in his pram- Aunt Diana lightly slapped Uncle Fred's arm to wake him from a shallow slumber. Delia exclaimed,

"Ned!" and let go of Sarah, running towards the steps of the train.

The obscure figure literally bounced off the train, splashing mud around himself. The man was tall, broad- shouldered and somewhat weather- beaten, his skin marked by sun of far-away places. He stopped, waiting with his arms wide open until Delia fell into them and wrapped her arms around his neck. Ned kissed his wife before everybody and, although Nan couldn't hear exactly, she fancied she heard him say the old adage of all sailors,

"No place like home."

Then he picked up Sarah, never letting go of Delia, though, and, after a moment of silent closeness, the three approached the rest of the family. Ned kissed Aunt Diana's hand- and Aunt Diana was _nearly_ crying, looking constantly at Delia, who was aglow with happiness- then he smiled at Uncle Fred, receiving his share of fatherly back- slaps. He shook hands with Jack- took a while with Emily who did not recognize him at first- and then, somewhat shyly, came closer to little Tommy. He seemed not to notice Nan, who promptly moved away from the perambulator. She felt somewhat out-of-place; she knew Ned's parents were both gone a long time and the Wrights were the only family he had. It seemed to her that he fit perfectly in their circle and she suddenly wondered whether she wasn't a flaw on a valued moment like this.

After a longer while, he straightened up and his now misty eyes fell on her. They were the color of steel; his features were rather sharply chiseled, and his hair murine and messy from the long ride. He also had a prominent Roman nose. He shouldn't have been handsome at all, but, _oh_, he _was_!

As Nan was italicizing in her mind, Ned spoke in a voice lower and deeper than she had ever heard in a man.

"By appearances, you must be Nannie," he said with emphasis on her name. "Delia wrote to me about you so much I think I may risk calling you a pal," he grinned, holding out his sunburnt hand.

Nan smiled joyfully and then flicked her eyes to Sarah, who was trying to carry Ned's enormous suitcase. Jack moved to help her and she could freely walk up to grab her father by the hand and hold it with a defiant air, as if she was determined to keep him home forever.

Nan gazed at her- then at little Emily- and from their faces she read the course of the years to come. Sarah was, indeed, a spitting image of her father and if similarity went for anything, she was destined to eventually outshine her younger sister's showy prettiness to become a striking, unusual sort of beauty. It gave Nan a thrill of impatience; she certainly hoped she could see that.

They headed out and found their chaise; it had been decided that Ned would stay in Avonlea with the rest of them for a week or two, before going back to White Sands. Nan had asked for it. She only had a month left in Avonlea and she wanted Delia, Tommy and the girls to share it with her.

He asked to drive.

"It's been a jolly good time since I last laid my hands on reins, Jack, I tell you."

The two of them seemed on the best of terms, sitting at the front and hooting with laughter. Jack was unusually talkative with his brother-in-law. Ned only turned around at times to cast a happy, tender look at Delia.

"Delia," Nan ventured archly, having noticed the exchange of fiery glances between the two. "Would it be very terrible of me to have a crush on a married man, what do you say?"

Delia only smiled proudly.

"He is a fine figure of a man, isn't he?" she answered contentedly.

* * *

Ned was not only a 'fine figure of a man', but also the merriest of companions. One simply _had to_ like him; he could play with his daughters all day long and even Emily was more obiedient with him. Uncle Fred talked to him on hours at the table, from which Nan benefited most, as she now got the paper all to herself. Aunt Diana fed him fondly; at times, he would facetiously call for Nan's help in assuring his mother-in-law of his satiety or hide in her room at meal times. He genuinely took to Nan, but that did not mean he was more merciful with her than with anyone else.

For Ned was a wag, despite his twenty fifth year. His first night he played a trick on Jack; as the fellow was trying to lie down in bed after a tiring day of attending to his duties of a best man, he found out he couldn't. The bedclothes simply wouldn't let him. As Jack was struggling dismally in his room, Ned chuckled hoarsely- and loudly- under his door and scared the life out of Nan, who was in the bathroom.

"I learned that in Sweden," he explained later. "Kids there do it all the time. You put stitches properly and there's no way to get in."

But he also thereby discovered Nan's timorousness and would not let her be afterwards. Every day after supper, as she was climbing the dark stairs to her room, he would lurk behind the door and suddenly jump at her with a loud and unearthly howl, eliciting an even louder one from Nan.

He had also a genuine knack for storytelling; every evening, Nan, Jack and the children gathered around him to hear him talk of his derring-do's overseas. Delia perched on the armrest and fondly lay her head on his shoulder. Three weeks went by in a flash.

One time, though, Nan did not come down and Delia knocked on her door. She found Nan poring over some pink silk. Her desk was buried under needles, scissors and pieces of white crochet lace.

"What's all this?"

Nan didn't even lift her head, focused on her work.

"A gift-to-be," she answered absently. "Sally's birthday is in a week. I want her to have one pretty dress."

"And what about Mrs. Davies and her- parenting methods?"

"As your Ned would say," Nan sent her an impish glance, "hang Mrs. Davies!"

Delia laughed a gladsome, smug little laugh.

"So you've decided to enter the lion's den after all?"

"Well, I have no intention of bearding anybody, but I _will_ go to Sally's birthday party. I am not going to funk anymore. Let her mother say what she wants, I only want Sally to be happy on her birthday. She is such a sweet girl, isn't she?"

"She is," Delia conceded. "All the times she came here to play with Sarah, and the things she said- remember how we had to hide here, in your room, to laugh safely? Oh, Nan, I'm going to miss that so much!" she exclaimed suddenly. "I'm going to miss _you_!"

Nan echoed the ejaculation, but she smiled sagely. Delia was to leave Avonlea in just a few days and one could see she was overjoyed about it. Ever since Ned arrived, she had been acting differently; she walked through the village with her head held high and her eyes far more resolute, even to the point of defiance. With Ned by her side, she truly feared no one and she wasn't ashamed of who she was.

"How could I be?" she had said in answer to Nan's hint. "After all, Ned loves me for who I am- and I care about him so much more than I ever could care for all the Pyes and Sloanes taken together- that is, if I cared to try and care about them at all- oh, what mess I'm making of those verbs!"

Nan understood, though, and she wished she could afford to think of it similarly. She didn't want to remind Delia that she had not been quite as bold before; she was only happy to see her open and beam because of this mainstay incarnated which Ned indubitably was. And, as Nan's thoughts revolved constantly about Glen St. Mary to which she was about to come back, she instantly thought of the Merediths. Ned cared so little about other people's opinion that he seemed not to notice it at all; and, Nan thought, Una and Carl had always been like that, too. Faith would get angry and refuse to speak to all the girls Nan had been caviled by and Jerry- why, Jerry had fought a regular campaign for her! He had used fists first; then, as he grew older, he had taken to words, which he could make more than effective. He was still on very cold terms with Dan Reese who had once called Nan a prig!

Nan was suddenly overtaken by a wave of thankfulness for them all; why, if Delia could face all the wild gossip about her with Ned, Nan could surely do the same thing with their friendship in mind!

Only- Nan's spirits always sank on this dreadful 'only'!- she didn't know what Jerry thought of her right then or whether he would be as eager defend her. And, she admitted to herself, maybe that was the reason she had let all the bad words prey on her so much. She missed her friend; she missed his funny letters and his reading recommendations and yes, even his teasing. The world without any Jerry in it seemed a very bleak and lonely place.

But it was all his fault. He had ruined everything- _he_ had spoiled their friendship! Di had been right in saying Nan had nothing to blame herself for. Maybe, though, she had also been right in her certainty of their reconciliation. Nan wondered whether she could allow herself to hope for it after they both came home; she thrilled at the possibility- and gloomed with doubt again.

Fortunately, before Nan got maudlin, Delia distracted her by examining the magazine pattern, which lay on the desk amidst patches of silk.

"It _is _pretty. But- why pink? Sally's red, after all- it won't go with her hair!"

"It isn't red. It's strawberry blonde!" Nan mocked Sally's dismal tone- her hate for her reddish curls was also what Nan liked her for; it reminded her of Di somehow- and they both laughed. "Oh, I know it won't. But Sally loves pink so! And look- I won't make the skirt pink, just the lining- and there will be white lace over the whole thing."

Delia nodded her head in agreement.

"And what is that?" she picked up a round box, which Nan had decorated with rose- patterned paper and white ribbons. "Are you planning to give her your present in it?"

"Yes, why?"

"Sally will find it a present in its own right," Delia said with admiration and Nan smiled gladsomly. "Where did you buy it, in Carmody?" she marveled at all the roses, sticked separately on white paper.

"I made it," Nan said. "Back home, I have heaps of those for my things."

"And- here? Do you have more?"

"I only have one, but I can make more for Sarah and Emily if you want, it's easy. I found the method in 'Girls Own'- poor Dad, you know, he always had to buy three separate papers when he went to Charlottetown, or else Di, Rilla and I would have turned Ingleside on its roof. And I rather like doing it."

"You could if you want- Emily is always losing her bobby pins and then crying about it- but I meant it for something else."

She left promptly and came back with a pair of lovely, white slippers; Nan noticed they had the loveliest, subtle little bows and beaded noses along with glistening buckles came buckshee.

"We've bought Sally a doll, Sarah is to give it to her- and I know that presents are not to be passed on- but Ned brought these for Sarah and they're too big. I think they would be just the thing. Will you let us in?"

Nan smiled happily.

"They're perfect, Delia. Thank you- oh, I can't wait to see Sally's face!"

The day of the birthday party, Lone Willow Farm was all hullabaloo. Sarah was anxious to please her bosom friend and very flurried about her first birthday party, too.

"I've already cleaned my nails twice," she said uneasily, tiptoeing into Nan's room. "But could you check my ears for me, Aunty Nannie? And Emily's?"

Nan laughed and broke her own primping to attend to the matter with all solemnity, even if she was to crazily laugh it over afterwards.

"You both look lovely," she assured Sarah and cupped her face in both hands to drop a calming kiss on it. "You are a drayds' changeling, Sarah, and Emily looks like a perfect, full blueberry."

Sarah certainly looked for a very well- groomed and tamed changeling in her blue dress of smocked muslin and a blue ribbon in her long hair, which Delia did not put in the usual braid, acknowledging the special occasion. Emily, as always, was dressed and combed alike. Delia herself was queenly beautiful in her cobalt taffeta and Ned and Jack both wore blue ties. Even little Tommy, who had been shortened recently- Delia and Nan had almost had a cry over it, but Aunt Diana, proud as punch, had called them silly- was given a new blue dress. They were going to celebrate Sally's birthday with a veritable crowd.

"A blue crowd," Nan thought amusedly, slipping into her new dress. She had yielded to her wish of blue silk; the shop assistant in Carmody had called it periwinkle blue and Nan was left to wonder whether the poor lady was in her right mind. There was no purple shade of periwinkle flowers to this dress; it was a clear, light blue, much like the sky on summer days or the sea in the morning. Delia had arranged her hair in a sleek, new-fashioned bun and, having wrapped around it a pearl string which Jack had bought for her in Carmody, Nan felt quite ready, examining the result in the mirror. The new fashions suited her, much to her own satisfaction.

At least Mrs. Davies would not find faults with her _appearance_! But Nan would have far preferred people to find pleasure in looking at her. She wished, all at once, that Jerry could see her in this dress-

She rapidly stiffened. What nonsense was coming to her head! Even her own eyes in the mirror seemed surprised and reproachful at that foolish little thought!

"Nan, get yourself downstairs!" Ned yelled at the very moment, saving Nan by compelling her attention. She certainly did _not_ wish to dwell on it any longer! "Dad's brought your post!"

Nan rushed downstairs with her presents.

"Why, Nannie, you look just like a forget-me-not," Delia laughed and Ned nodded approvingly, handing over a letter.

Nan turned it around, feeling puzzled. The handwriting was Di's, but the letter was surprisingly short. And she had not yet written back to Di's last letter.

She hastily ripped it up, almost breathless. Did Walter-?

"Oh, no," she said plaintively, leaning on the wall behind her. "No- my Pussywillow is gone!"

Ned turned his head from joking with Sarah and looked at her with slight disbelief. He knew the love Nan had for flowers, trees and plants of all descriptions, but this seemed to him a little bit too much. But Delia understood, took over the laconic note and expressed the whole sympathy of a kindred spirit in just one look. When Nan's eyes glistened suspiciously, she asked mildly,

"Would you like not to go? I will explain everything to Sally-"

"No," Nan said with decision, although the impression was slightly weakened by a little snuffle.

Pussywillow was- or had been, rather- the daintiest darling of a puss. With her glossy black fur, freckled with silvery white around the lithe neck, she was an object of admiration of the Ingleside folk and, as she excluded no one in demanding caress, also a great favorite. However, she belonged to Nan exclusively and she gave proof of that when she endured an attack of a pack of Glen's dogs. She wouldn't let anyone near her, not even Jem with his good hand for animals; she had only let Nan nurse her injuries. She slept in Nan's bedroom, scornfully ignoring the cosy pillow and basket in its corner and always stretching out at Nan's feet. She lived exceptionally long for a cat- and Nan loved her more than any of the Ingleside pets, even Cock.

"Just don't let Mrs. Davies give you a kitten. This woman is always giving people kittens. I heard they had another batch last week," Aunt Diana warned them, waving from the porch.

"No fear. I shall never have another pet," Nan vowed to herself in thought, as they were walking to the Davieses' house, paired off. She was with Jack who carried the gift boxes. "It is wonderful to have them- just that one bit too wonderful, which makes losing them so painful."

She fell very quiet and Jack, not wanting to disturb her, carried on just as silently. Thanks to that, Nan caught an excerpt from Ned and Delia's talk.

"Now, you can_not_ vex Mabel, you hear me?" Delia admonished and her husband moaned with disappointment. "Sally is Nan's pupil and she has caused her enough-"

Delia broke off in the middle of a sentence, as Nan had run up to them.

"So you don't like Mrs. Davies?" she asked Ned bluntly.

"Nobody likes her," Ned answered with a shrug of his shoulders. "She's a dragon, Nan, no less and I have to say- I was rather surprized when Delia wrote to me that you worry about her so much. I mean," he went on, eyeing her shrewdly, "apart from that you seemed rather bright."

When Nan's brow arched, Delia put her other hand on his arm.

"Really, Nan, take it from an old hand," he said earnestly, wincing a bit. "Nobody pays attention to that jade. There was once enough gossip about her, when she got married- and I honestly think she's gotten in a habit of trying to distract her neighbors with gossip about others."

"But you won't irk her today?" Delia demanded of him. "Promise you won't. You're always so terrible to her."

Ned only smirked.

"Well, I have my reasons, don't you think?" he retorted.

Nan had been turning her head from one to the other; she felt some relief because of Ned's words and the unwavering certainty, which he had put into them, but she was also quite perplexed to discover that how much he had learned about her from Delia's letters. His last remark, though, engendered in her mostly ardent curiosity.

Finally, Delia buckled under her pressing questions and the provocative look in Ned's eyes.

"I never told you about it, because there wasn't much to tell," she said by way of exculpation. "It was very simple- very trivial, really. Mabel and I were friends... Or, at least, I thought we were. I was impressed to be on good terms with a girl three years older than myself, I guess. But when I agreed to marry Ned, she suddenly grew very averse and tried to dissuade me from it."

"She almost suceeded," Ned reminded her grimly.

"Don't interrupt me!" Delia said with a strange way of expressing contrition by resentment. Nan could tell that from the regretful look in her black eyes, and Ned could probably see it, too, since he smiled and lightly touched her shoulder. "I feel more of a goose every time I speak of it. Well, anyway, she turned her back on me and I can safely assume that she was behind much of the gossip about- about us."

Nan shook her head. The image of Irene Howard, which always occured to her when she was thinking about Mrs. Davies, dispersed at that moment. Why- how- Nan could not understand. She had matured enough to accept, although very reluctantly, the inevitable gossip in the neighbor circle of small towns- but it coming from a friend? Not even Irene would be that... venomous. What spite- what malice- what- what a shame!

At first, Nan felt surprised by her own thoughts. But she suddenly remembered the party, which Mother had thrown for Aunt Mary Maria on account of the disagreeable lady's never having a friend. Why- Mrs. Davies must have felt very lonely, too, when she lost Delia because of her own foolishness. Or maybe, Nan almost slapped her forehead, maybe that was why she had done it in the first place. Because she had been afraid of losing her.

Nan could not be abashed by her any longer; she felt a whit of sympathy for her now.

"Ned," Delia urged, evidently not sharing Nan's feelings, "promise me you won't annoy her, for Nan's sake. Mabel would take it out on her."

Ned suddenly bent under her the touch of her hand on his shoulder.

"Alright, alright! I won't. I'm henpecked like that. You see, Nan," he turned to her with a wince, "this wife of mine is quite an imp herself. She's been prickling my arm for a quarter or so now, to convince me. A compelling argument, isn't it?"

* * *

The Davieses' house was big, but not too grand; it was just about enough to seem pleasant and commodious but not intimidate a guest. The garden looked a treat; Nan couldn't but admit it _was _rather lovely, with wide mallows in each corner and a narrow, bubbling brook clasping two walls of its bramble hedge. She wouldn't have expected such a pretty spot from Mrs. Davies. Standing in the shadow of plum trees was a table, groaning under a gallore of pies. Ned and Jack departed in its direction soon enough, thus shattering Nan's hopes for early departure.

Some of her pupils were present at the party; Sally was not overly popular with the girls, but she had managed to draw to herself a few companions. There was little Amy Bell and both of the Gillis twins, though usually only Hetty had enough patience to play with Sally, Anetta Donnel and even Kitty Blair, as pretty as a picture, and also dressed likewise. They did not show any wariness in talking to her anymore and Nan felt elated.

Mrs. Davies was much obliged to them all... She would call Sally down this instant. Maybe Miss Blythe would go and help herself to the birthday cake? Sally had already blown the candles out...

After she disappeared, Nan forbade herself to think that her last words were a suggestion directed at their late- comming. She resolved to think about the birthday girl and looked around to find Jack, who still had the presents. He wasn't even paying attention to the boxes; it was all compelled by the undeniably admirable birthday cake.

"Well, well, well," said a voice behind her back. "If it isn't the teacher Sally keeps chattering about."

Nan looked around, a bit startled, to find a man, whom she could identify instantly, despite never having seen him before. Sally was so strikingly similar to her father, that it was almost ridiculous.

Mr. Davies was a jolly and companionable older man. He did not attend the church and, apparently, must have been even more headstrong than Mr. Douglas from the Glen, first convinced to go to church once a month by Faith Meredith and then forced to do it every Sunday by his wife, the forceful Mrs. Ellen. Mr. Davies had never showed up in Avonlea's church, despite his wife's ardent persuasion. He had never graced parents meetings at school neither and was now trying to make up for his absence with excessive talk.

"You hail from the Four Winds, don't you, Miss?"

"I do," Nan smiled, presuming that the information must have come from Sally.

"I have family there," he surprised her. "Or rather, I used to have. My cousin, Alec, used to live in Glen St. Mary. Poor chap, died too early. Do you know his wife, Kitty?"

"I do," Nan repeated, feeling like a parrot; this time the words didn't come with a smile, though.

"Between you, me and the gatepost, I think she's why he died too early. Should you happen to see her, could you remember me to her?"

Nan promised that, of course, she would. At the same time, though, she solemnly vowed to herself _not_ to happen to see the neighbor.

"Just don't make it too cordial, will you? I don't want her thinking I like her- I can already see her coming with a visit and making things warm for me for weeks."

Nan wordlessly gaped at him for a moment and then laughed aloud. She unexpectedly sensed the race who knew Joseph in him.

"I hear from Sally that you happened to endure a scorge like that," he revealed with a playful note to his voice and Nan giggled, resolving to tell him about Aunt Mary Maria's visit long ago.

But at this moment, as if summoned by a spell, Sally appeared on the threshold. She breezed towards Nan with speed one would never expect from a girl so little and bumped into her teacher's warm grip. Out of nowhere, Jack appeared next to Nan with his big box.

"Some reflex," she murmered to him appreciatively. Then she bent to take Sally's face in her hands and drop two kisses on each of her darling full cheeks, which Sally took with visible delight, closing her eyes. Nan presumed Mrs. Davies might just have some trouble convincing the child to wash her face that evening; she chuckled inwardly, feeling positively vicious- and not a whit ashamed of it!

"I'm so glad you came, Miss Blythe," Sally gasped, still not recovered from the unforgettable experience of being kissed by Nan- four times at that! "When you were late, mommy said- oh, Miss Blythe! Miss Blythe!"

That was not what Mrs. Davies had said, although she sure had mentioned Nan's name a lot. Nan had simply taken over the box and accidentally dropped the lid.

"We had a little hindrance," Nan faltered a bit, being thus reminded of Pussywillow. "But of course I had to come to give you the present, didn't I? Why, Sally- do you not like it?"

For Sally, for once in her life, was struck dumb. She weakly grabbed the dainty lace sleeve, as if afraid that the dress would disappear.

"And look what's here," Ned slightly poked her with the other box. Sally squealed, frightened by his sudden move and, mostly, his towering form.

Ned trotted back in the direction of the birthday cake, hooting with laughter. He knew Sally was best friends with Sarah, who was his undeniable pet, but for him she was an inexhaustible source of hilarity.

Sally was now turning her head from one present to the other, still not uttering a word. Nan remembered a smilar quiet joy in Una Meredith's eyes, when Mother Rosemary bought her the first pretty dress and so she did not worry a speck. Mr. Davies did, though.

"Sally is obviously much obliged," he joshed, sending Nan and Delia into the wildest of giggles and restoring Sally to her tongue.

"I can never thank you enough, Miss Blythe," she said rapturously. "I will make an extra effort in school, now, I promise."

"I wonder just how you're going to do that, since you've aced every one of your tests so far," Nan responded to the general mirth. "Would you like to try it on now?"

"Oh, no!" Sally exclaimed in horror. "It could get blotted- or ripped- or-"

"Will you ever even wear it?" Delia asked, doubtfully arching her brow. "Come now, run uptairs and change. We want to see you in it! And there is a pink ribbon from Emily for you, too."

Sally soon came back, transformed into a little dancy dwarf. Nan observed with satisfied air that her dress was just as pretty, if not prettier, than those of the Gillis girls. Finally, even if for once only, there was nothing in this respect which would make Sally different from her mates.

All the girls soon swarmed around Sally and they all departed to play hide and seek. Sally didn't get much hiding that day and had to seek every other time, since she steered clear of the safe caches of the bramble hedge. But it didn't seem to bother her; all that mattered was that the lovely frills remained intact.

Nan wandered around the pretty garden with only Tommy to keep her company. She was glad to have him, to cuddle his plump little arms and kiss his mellow cheeks on end and tickle him till he laughed gladsomly- but she was also happy to be alone with her thoughts.

"Izn't him ze darlingest itty man?" she crooned to the boy, who seemed very content with his share of baby talk. Nan had always agreed with her Mother in her opinions of baby talk, despite Di's and Dad's jeering. "Dem woly-poly itty- bitty pads are ze purtietht in all of Avonlea, izn't dey?"

She observed the faces around her and marvelled at how close and dear they seemed to her after a year. Delia and Ned were sitting together at a bench almost shielded from view, heads leaning and sweet nonsense being whispered. Jack was binging happily, Emmie taking part in the gluttony at a little stool next to him. Sally and Sarah and the other girls were playing with the new doll and there was a first white rose on the lush shrubs in old Mrs. Sloane's garden.

Mrs. Sloane beckoned her to the fence and, before Nan had time to protest, cut the flower off.

"Take it, missie. You two are alike."

Nan felt surprised at such a manifestation of good will and thanked the old lady whole- heartedly. She put the flower in her hair, despite the fact that in her eyes, cutting a first flower in the garden was a regicide almost. She were not to know that Mrs. Sloane would soon be taken away to a better world, but she was glad that before she would go back to her world, they could share a darling moment like that.

It felt slightly bittersweet to think of leaving now; she _was _looking forward to seeing Ingleside and Susan and Rainbow Valley... But she was also sure she would miss some of the Avonlea folk keenly, despite the rumors she knew were flying around.

She had gradually learned, from Delia's example, that they meant as much as nothing. She would carry home what was worth remembering- the shimmer of The Lake of Shining Waters- Aunt Millie's tarts- the children- Hester Gray's mossy paths- Jack and their chummy talks in the buggy and how exasperating it was for him to teach her how to drive it. Mr. Sloane or Mrs. Davies she would not ponder. She did not want to have such beautiful memories spoiled by something insignificant.

She would come out of it stronger and wiser. She had lived in an atmosphere of aversion for as long as she could remember, really. It hurt her to know that people thought her proud, but she had enough of pride not to show them her feelings in this respect. And she would not confide in her friends in the Glen; after all, how could she confide in, say, Una, whom everyone simply had to love? Delia was the first person to understand her and now Nan knew better; she knew that if her dear ones, those who knew her best, did not find her proud- then she wasn't, despite the opinions which others formed on the basis of the way she walked or how high she held her head. She was not going to droop it for them ever again; she would not change only because someone wanted it. It took her long enough to understand it; a year in which she feared she would grow to hate Avonlea. But she now felt she matured through her stay there and it was this new maturity which would prevent her memories of the dear old place from defilement.

The evening was dark and velvety blue, the soft puffs of wind brought freshness and promises from the seaside, sending flowers and high grass blades into a slow dance. Such beauty could not be befouled by an army of Sloanes, Pyes and not even by Mrs. Davies in command.

When it was time to go and Sally hopped up merrily to say her goodbies, Nan was happy with a quiet, steady kind of happiness. Sally, however, noticed a saddish glimmer in her eyes and asked for its cause. Nan didn't want to confess to everyone her newly earned knowledge of life; it was something she wanted to keep for herself and only talk about it with Delia perhaps.

"You see, Sally, I- I've learned that my kitty died a few days ago. I was very attached to it and-"

Nan was not to finish, for Sally literally vanished in the darkness. She was back as soon as she was gone, holding a crying ball in her hands.

"His name is Crumble," Sally counseled, a bit miserably. "I don't want to give it away, it is our last one- but you'll take good care of it, Miss Blythe, won't you?"

The kitten was a bijou, with ginger coat rather unusually smooth and unstriped and three white socks. But, however lovely it might have been, Nan did _not_ want it. No cat could take place of Pussywillow. Just how was she to explain to Sally that her gift, so unselfish- was unwanted?

"Now, Sally, take it back. Miss Blythe surely doesn't want another cat now," Mrs. Davies showed unexpected understanding. "Matt will take it to Spencervale."

Sally's eyes grew with horror; she knew darling Crumble would be degraded to a barn cat in her brother's household. Nan looked at her tormented face and stretched her arms before she even knew it.

"I do want it, if Mr. Davies would agree to give it up," she said politely. "It would remind me of Sally when I come back. What do you think, would his fur go better with a blue or purple collar?"

Sally went to sleep calm that night; she had left her wardrobe door open to look at the new dress first thing in the morning. Nan, in turn, did not get a wink for sleep for Crumble, having overcome his initial fright, walked all over his new owner in her bed.

"Would you stop, you little scamp! Now, don't you purr at me. It won't help you one bit. Aunt Diana is quite mad you're here- and you don't even want to know how mad _Susan_ will be when I come to Ingleside with you. Let's have rest while we still can!"

* * *

_there it is. way too long and, I hope- bearable, despite its length. I just cannot wait to get back to Glen St. Mary so I squeezed two chapters into one._

_I also wanted to thank for the lovely reviews, especially LOTRlover- I'm doing it here, because I cannot PM you. this review literally made my heart melt, thank you so much. also, I'm very glad to find another person who likes Nan, that just seems so chummy! I'm more nervous now to make Nan seem real so I hope I won't disappoint anybody with this. _

_should you have any suggestions or see mistakes- do let me know. :-)_


	19. Best of friends

_On account of the reviews that I got, I decided to put Author's Note at the top. **Please, read it first.**_

_First of all, I would like to thank you all for those wonderful, wonderful reviews. They are the greatest inspiration that exists and they always make my day! Knowing that you like what I write is very important and it feels like making new friends. Thank you so much for that!_

_Therefore, I am very sorry that I didn't respond to your suggestions and that there's still no Jerry in it and that it seems like another filler- chapter. It is one, really. Since this story will be, in fact, a prequel to my second one, I'm planting seeds every now and then. There will be some new characters which I want to introduce and it would simply be too much to have them all brought in in one story- hence this chapter. It's a sketch, really, nothing too long and detailed._

_Moreover, and more's the pity, there won't be any Jerry in another chapter. I'm so, so sorry for making you impatient! But, you see, I was already halfway through it when your reviews came by and I didn't want to change my concept. It's brimful of the Blythes instead and I hope they can make up for the lack of a Meredith and I hope that you like it still. And if you don't- do let me know. I sometimes miss honest criticism, really._

_But, there! Enough of my babble and happy reading (I hope)!_

* * *

Delia came from White Sands before Nan's journey to do her hair for the last time.

"Would you stop sighing?" Nan demanded caustically. "I'm going home and I want this day to be joyful. Don't rob me of it, Delia, if you start crying, I'll cry too- and then Susan will see my red eyes and give me castor oil. She's still as merciless with it as ever, you know."

Delia heaved another sigh in response and finished the thick braid. Aunt Diana was making breakfast with a grim expression which didn't go with her lovely dimples at all.

"Who will be helping me in the garden now? You have such a green thumb," she grumbled for a hundreth time, putting a glass of malted milk in front of Nan. "Darling, it's going to feel so lonesome with you gone- when you were here it was almost as if I had Anne back with me."

That morning, breakfast at Lone Willow Farm was a rather doleful meal. Uncle Fred gallantly let Nan have the paper first, Ned was discontented to lose his 'pal', Sarah produced two decorative tears every minute with the accuracy of a Swiss wristwatch and Jack would not go and hitch the mare up for too long.

"Do you want me to be late for my train?"

"I do," he grinned rougishly, but stood up and left.

Nan was concurrently touched and irritated. She wanted to go home, she wanted to snap her fingers and find herself at Ingleside's verandah, in her old hammock. But it was so funny to observe them all so unwilling to let her go that she would have gladly not left Avonlea at all.

Little Tommy responded to the general mood and cried in resonant voice, so Nan orbited the buggy, lulling him in his arms. Ned lifted her suitcase, still disgrunted, and Delia brought Crumble, screaming in his closed basket.

The noisy company reached the railways in White Sands to surprise the agent once again. Had anyone ever seen his station so busily frequented? But the poor man was to be even more astounded by the crowds which were beggining to assemble at the platform.

No one was more surprised than Nan, though.

There was Sally, blubbering shamelessly and refusing to say goodbye at all, hiding her face in her father's sleeve. This left Nan quite helpless; she could only rub her shoulder slightly and say a few words of farewell. She noticed that Sally had a new hat with ribbon streamers on her reddish curls, but even _that_ didn't seem enough of a comfort for the child.

The Keiths appeared along with Mary, who had come home from Queens. And Rachel was with Thomas Fletcher! Aunt Millie gave Nan a long and warm hug.

"I've made for you, guess what- sweet cherry tarts! I know it's your favorite fruit."

Nan smiled; she did not have the heart to tell Aunt Millie that she only liked them fresh and hated them in any baked form. It seemed an especial waste, as Green Gables' sweet cherries were the more delicious in the whole Island. Nan knew, though, that for Aunt Millie baking tarts was a way of saying sorry for all the unpleasantness which she had caused. She thanked her properly; and her smile grew very honest when Uncle Davy winked at her, waving a hamper of freshly picked sweet cherries.

Anetta Donnel had been brought to the station by her older brother. After saying goodbye to her pupil, Nan turned to him.

"I want to thank you for everything, Jake. You were a very good pal," she used Ned's word rather uncomfortably.

"I'll miss you, Nan. Our dances just won't be the same," he looked at her expectantly, so she creeped on her toes and kissed his cheek. She felt she she shouldn't deny him that little, when he had been, in fact, a good friend when she didn't have many others.

The Gillis family showed up in full squad.

"I see the blouse serves you well, Miss Blythe," smiled the lovely- and lively- Mrs. Gillis. "We simply had to come and thank you in person. Jack would never have decided to go to Queens, if not for you."

Mrs. Gillis had a way of making Nan feel a few steps behind her swift tongue and current of thought. This was a surprise; Nan looked at Little Jack attentively, anxious about his feelings. But he smiled at her placidly.

"I'll pave the way for Sally."

"He is full of promise," she put her hand on his arm.

Her throat was getting a bit clutched. There were still more of her students coming- alongside with their parents. Nan felt tears brimming her eyes at the flowers and gifts which they brought. The Gillis twins had even baked monkey-faces for her ride! That day, Nan forgot every bad word which she had heard in Avonlea.

The train whistled and the voices of neighbors rose anxiously. Nan fell into Delia's arms and ordered her to stop pining before quickly kissing Ned and the Wrights goodbye.

She boarded the train, looking around with disappointment. She had lost Jack in the crowd. How could he have let her go away without saying goodbye properly? She still had so much to say!

She opened the door to her compartment and froze on the threshold, for Jack was sitting there, her suitcases having been carefully stacked on the shelf.

"Jack, we're leaving in seconds," she gasped, but her words were muffled by an embrace of his strong arms. "Ouch! That hurts, Wright!"

"I know, Blythe," he grinned and she had to respond with the same.

"You have to come to Ingleside. This summer, not later."

"I will," he squashed her shoulders one more time and left to jump off the steps when the train was already in motion.

Nan hurried to the window. Jack had made it to the ground safely and was now rising from it to wave his cap along Ned, Jack and- Rev. Moody, of all people! She took out her white handkerchief and waved, and waved, and waved- for as long as she could see them all.

Then she put it to her eyes and wiped them impulsively. She shouldn't cry- she had left one home to go to another. What was there to cry about?

* * *

_"You do know me well, Nantucket! Journalism it is," _Ken wrote. _"This way I get to write, but I won't have people talking I'm making use of Dad's success, and everthing in the garden will be rosy. Well- with one exception. You and I both know what Mrs. Elliot is going to say, right?"_

Nan laughed. How she loved Ken's letters and his jokes! She had not had the time to read it in the last days full of packing, ironing and comforting Aunt Diana, but was now making up for it and reaching, every now and then, for a sweet cherry out of her hamper. The best part of the whole epistle was its end, in which Ken wrote Nan that he was already in the Four Winds, having finished his academic year at Toronto early due to his good results, and staying at Martin West's.

"Crumble, won't you hush!" she scolded the meowling basket. "I can't let you out here."

She suddenly realized she could have been bothering someone, looked around- and, of course, she saw two faces directed right at her. She opened her mouth to apologize, but realized that she wasn't being glared at at all.

Quite the contrary, the girl who was craning her neck over the back of her seat was smiling rather affably. When she caught Nan's attention, she beckoned her with a wave.

"I'm so glad you finally saw me!" she cried, springing from her seat when Nan had approached her. "I swear, I was beggining to get a cramp. You sure got absorbed."

"You must have thought me crazy with all that laughing to myself. It happens to me all the time when I read my friend's letters, you see."

"No, not at all," the girl assured her merrily.

"It's a very pleasant kind of craziness," said a young man on the opposite seat, surrounded by girls, none of whom Nan had not noticed before.

She smiled at them apologetically; the girl who spoke to her first was an irresistible eye- catcher. She must have been at least a year younger than Nan, judging by appearances. She wasn't particularly pretty, but there was something very endearing about her round face surrounded by a cap of straight, dark hair. Nan had never seen a bob before and it made her feel positively country-girlish. The girl was also most exquisitely dressed; a big hat and a white two- piece can't have been a very suitable apparel for a journey, but they were so pretty that Nan could not blame the girl.

"Who are you then?" demanded a man around Walter's age, sitting next to her. He showed rather visible similarity, except the prominent, upturned nose and a luxuriant mustache. "We all know each other pretty well and if you are to travel with us-"

"Oh, I didn't know I was," Nan interrupted impishly, but was soon given a taste of her own medicine.

"You know now," said his companion, who had carried over her suitcase and the basket with Crumble- still shrieking wildly- without her noticing. He was far more pleasant- looking that the previous one; tall, broad- shouldered, with black hair and dark eyes... He seemed to be every girl's dream, custom- made and thus, naturally, reminded her of Ken. He stretched his hand. "My name's William Lennox. The other well- behaved gallant is Jules Evans. The rouge you got to saw first is his baby sister Madeline, or Maddie."

"I am Anne Blythe. But all my friends call me Nan."

"Nan it is, then," William smiled and sat down. Next to him, lounged a girl who wore the very same black and ivory kind of beauty as he did; his sister apparently. "Joss Lennox, the bane of my life who still calls me Willmouse just because she is twenty minutes older than I," William continued his presentation.

"I have a twin sister, too" Nan got a proud word in edgeways, taking a seat next to Maddie. "And she's the older one, too."

"Rotten luck, that's what I call it."

There were two more girls, both around Nan's age. Peggy Galbright had beautiful, nut- brown hair which she wore undone, dancing around her waist and the most slender and shapely form Nan had ever seen. The last in the line, curled up with a notebook, was Maddie's and Jules's middle sister, Lily. She, too, had her fawn hair bobbed, but was very different from her siblings. She seemed focused and serious and didn't even lift her head.

"Don't pay attention to her. She's a great poetess at work," Maddie rolled her eyes. "She'll finish a line and then say hello."

"Mind your manners, baby," the 'poetess' closed her notebook with a snap. "I can finish later; it is a scribbler who lets her inspiration control her. Hello," she smiled pleasantly. Just like her sister, she was not exactly pretty, but had something fairy-like and attractive about her. Her nose was slightly crooked and looked strangely out of place on a pink face with features so delicate that they seemed almost too delicate. Her eyes were enormous and lucidly blue; Jules called her 'Owl' because of those eyes.

Despite Nan's protests, Crumble was let out and marveled at with high voices. The little traitor purred on Maddie's lap and graciously let her feed him. The conversation carried on smoothly, often interrupted by peals of laud laughter as it often happens with the youth.

"You'll have to spend your whole journey with us, I'm afraid," Jules said jocularly. "The Glen St. Mary station is on the way to Lowbridge, where we're all headed. Pegeen lives there and we're all going to sponge on her for a week or two."

"I don't mind," Nan said with an honest smile. William, who seemed so talkative at the begginning now turned very quiet. He observed her carefully, though, and Nan often had to drop her gaze under his black one. But the rest were a jolly, companionable bunch and the journey went by as pleasurably as swiftly.

Nan only resented the fact that she had to share her sweet cherries with them. But she was given a piece of a devine chocolate cake and biscuits in return and also some queer- tasting cranberry cordial. She was also offered some pitch- black coffee, but declined the offer firmly.

"I don't like coffee," she admitted truthfully. The scent was inviting and the spices spoke of oriental places, but she knew she wouldn't have endured one swallow.

"You will, once you start studies, believe me," Lily laughed. She had a lovely, silvery laugh. "It will become your new best friend. That is, if you're going to study?"

"I am. I've been teaching for the whole year and now I'm going to Redmond."

Maddie started from her seat.

"Why, Redmond- we all study there! I'm beginning this year- and they're all Juniors now."

"Will you snub me in Kingsport as a Freshman, not worthy of your attention?"

"Most certainly. It is the done thing," Joss nodded her head and then smiled like a gracious queen, granting a pardon to a delinquent. If queens ever winked, of course. "Do you have any friends there whom we could know?"

It turned out very much so.

"Faith Meredith!" Jules cried at the top of his voice. "Of course we know her. How could we not?"

Will suddenly snapped his long fingers.

"I knew your name seemed familiar. You're Jem's Kitten!"

Nan blushed at the ambiguity of his expression and laughed.

"Yes, that would be me. And I'm already scared to think what Jem has told you."

This caused a choir of laughter and added to Nan's embarrasment.

"Then you must know Jerry Meredith, too," probed Joss and Nan thought there was a strange note to her voice.

"Jem's a fine fellow," Jules spoke. "But Jerry is-"

Nan never found out what was Jules's opinion of her friend, for the train whistled, pulling into a station- _her_ station! She hastily collected all her bags and approached the door, escorted by a little crowd.

Again, William helped her with the valise.

"I'll be looking forward to seeing you again, Nan," he said quietly, causing Nan to blush a little. His eyes clearly showed interest- and it _was _pleasant to think that it was she, Nan Blythe, who caught attention of someone like him. She wasn't entirely happy with herself, though; because of all that blushing, she must have made an untrufhtful impression of bashfulness.

"See you soon, Willmouse," she said impishly.

The impulsive Maddie hugged her in passing.

"You'll see, we're going to be the best of friends!"

Her cordiality went in Nan's one ear and out the other. There they were, all of them! Mother and Di were, as always, most visible with their lovely curls gleaming in the sunlight like polished mahogany. Next to Di, there was Walter, still too pale and wispy in Nan's sisterly eyes. Even Dad had found time to come, with all those Four Winds' inhabitants dying and being born all the time! Miss Oliver with Baby Rilla, who was not that much of a baby anymore, but of whom Nan couldn't think otherwise. Carl and Shirley, waving their caps and Una with her dreamy eyes and a smile less wistful than usually.

And- Susan, dear Susan smiling properly in the background, her hands hidden under the apron! No threat of castor oil could be found in her wide, candid grin.

Nan's new acquaintances were waving as she was jumping off the train, but she didn't see it. She was rushing headlong into the open arms of her twin sister thinking that the _best_ of her friends were right _there_.


	20. Jem speaks

When Nan opened her eyes that morning, she was exhilarated to find emerald cloth right before them. She hastily sprang out of bed and threw the curtains open to the glimmery light of sunrise. Wasn't 'sunrise' a lovely word? It felt so warm and envigorating one instantly wanted to get up.

Well, not _every_ one. The Ingleside folk liked to sleep long; apart from the poor doctor naturally, who had to be on his feet at every beck and call of his patients. But Susan was at the helm and the poor man could always count for some coffee and his favorite apple pie hidden in the pantry.

Nan was the early riser of the family and Crumble, it seemed, could be numbered among them, too.

"Look what mess you've made of that pillow!" Nan sniffed at the plumage flying around. "Don't you like your new residence?"

When Nan and Di had turned fifteen, Ingleside had been turned upside down, for the parents had decided that the girls needed their own rooms. Thereafter, Di, Walter and Baby Rilla had occupied the upper part of the house together with parents and Susan, while Nan, Jem and Shirley had the garret and its three small rooms to themselves.

Nan had chosen the tiniest den and turned it into as cosy and dainty a nest as any girl could think of. In order to save some space, her white, heavy bed was put in an alcove; at daytime she arranged the pillows and two round, fat bolsters to use it as a sofa for her guests. Hers was also the only window at Ingleside with oriel wide enough to install a window seat. It was very small still, but just about enough for her to curl up with a book; all her favorite ones were kept on a shelf in the recess, together with two pretty photogaphs. In the smaller one she was with laughing Jem, who was putting his arm around her, standing under the White Lady and in the other with Di, tightly clasping Nan in her arms. All the young Blythes had quite a number of photographs in their rooms, as Ken Ford was a keen photographer and had had Jem bitten by the bug.

On the other side of the room there was a white- painted wardrobe, bursting with all Nan's pretty dresses, her little round table with a hidden drawer and a podgy chair. There was her and Di's old dolls' house in the corner and Nan's old favorite doll, an elegant little lady in a blue gown with a white lacy hat on her reddish curls, was seated on the shelf above them, among Nan's decorative boxes and more photographs. The wallpapers were somewhat queer; white, with brushes of dove violet and willow green. Were some arbiter of taste to hear it talked of, he would most probably start tearing his hair out. Were he to be invited to sit in it, he would find it as comfortable and snug as its owner and all her friends did. It spoke of hopes and maiden fancies and Nan had managed to assemble in it all the objects dear to her in one way or another.

She sat on the window seat, hands clasped over knees, her tilted head leaning on them as she was watching the brushes of gold unveil the clearest sky, tinted with pale azure. The Ingleside lawn was smothered with bright yellow of dandelions which Nan had always hated to see dug out. She knew she had to feast her eyes, since Shirley had promised Susan to do just that the following weekend. The trees in Rainbow Valley rustled and whispered to the distant roar of the sea and they were green- green- green; not the fresh and somewhat shy green of spring which she had left in Avonlea, but already the saturated, lush emerald of summer, which seemed to glisten slightly in the morning sun. Jem, Faith and Jerry were going to have splendid weather for their homecoming.

Nan slid down and stamped her foot a few times to make sure that Diana, whose room was right below hers, woke up in time to have early breakfast and make it to the station with the rest of them. A disgruntled growl came from downstairs, making Nan smirk slightly; her twin was as different from her in this respect as in any other.

She sashayed around the room, running her fingers along the well- known furniture. In an effort not to overdress, she put on her new skirt and carefully arranged the cravat under her collar. Then she made sure, counting pulls of her comb, that her dark hair was brushed to perfection. It seemed to be getting darker every day; Mother said that one day it would turn as black as Dad's had with years. When it fell down her back like a glossy cascade, Nan felt perfectly pleased with being countrified and not having it bobbed.

She flew down the stairs and entered the dining room with an effervescent 'good morning' on her lips.

"Ah, Nan- girl, we've missed you at breakfasts," the doctor said. "With Di's yawning and long face in the morning, we all felt only more sleepy."

Nan giggled, approached her parents and kissed them both on the cheeks. She would have done the same to Shirley in one fell swoop, had he not ducked his head with the infallible reflex of a future airman.

"Try that with Gog and Magog," he grinned smugly, bringing laughter over the table. Shirley was a lad of very few words; but the little he said was always precious.

Nan lovingly ruffled his jet-black hair and plopped on the chair next to him to be fawned over by Susan. Her favorite pancakes were heaped on her plate, literally sunk in maple syrup. Nan noticed, though, that she wasn't the only person at the table honored with her special treat; Shirley had had brown eggs made for him. She didn't mind it- she couldn't possibly mind it. He was and always would be Susan's especial love; and of the three Blythe sisters, Nan had always loved Susan most and was more prone not to begrudge that partiality.

"Now, darling, tell us everything about Avonlea," Mother called her attention. "You went to bed so early yesterday that it left me starving for some news."

"I was tired, Mother," Nan said apologetically. "I had had a very exciting journey."

"We could all see that," judging by the mockery, Di had already returned to the conscious. "Who was that poor, sheep- eyed boy who took your suitcase out?"

The doctor 'ahemed' her eager questions very pointedly, at which the twins exchanged amused glances. Dad was always impossibly funny in such cases, unlike Mother who showed almost undue curiosity and understanding.

Susan was spinning around the kitchen with admirable speed, stirring, chopping and mincing.

"Susan, won't you join us?" Nan cried to her.

"I cannot, Nan dear," Susan almost shouted back. "This is no common day. With you all coming home day after day, think of all the cooking I have to do! When Little Jem comes back home, he will always come to find in it gingerbread and whipped cream, and that you may tie to. And you will have your chocolate mousse... Oh, get out of here, you nasty cat!"

A loud jangle startled the whole family, who slumped in their seats. After a moment, terrified Doc slipped through the door, looking like a cat clouted with a dishcloth.

"Nan," Rilla asked laughingly, turning over from Miss Oliver and Nan marveled at how pretty her glowing face had become in the few months of her absence. "I don't think you even know how lucky you are to come home right now. The Parkers are hosting a big party next week and we're all invited. That is, _you_ are all invited because _I_ can't go, of course," she heaved a sigh of both resignation and impatience.

"Of course," Nan repeated matter-of-factly, much to her sister's frustration. "You're fourteen, Rilla. Di and I were fift- I mean sixteen when we first went to a dance."

She rubbed the hurting ankle, which Di had kicked under the table. The twins had, in fact, attended their first dance without their parents' knowledge, at Queens, and Nan kept forgetting that it wasn't something she couldn't speak of in Mother's presence. Moreover, it would have sent Rilla pestering everyone even more than she did presently.

"I am nearly fifteen, Nan!" she cried indignantly. "I wish you could all see that I'm not a _child_ anymore!"

"Being yelled at won't help us see it, Baby," Di meddled playfully, at which Rilla sulked. "There will be enough fun for you to participate in this summer anyway, don't worry. Walter, Ken and I have made such plans," she turned to Nan excitedly. "There's a surprise waiting for you and Jem in the valley."

"Speaking of," Mother joined the swift conversation, "Do _you_ have any particular plans for the summer, Nan?"

"No, not really. I only want it to be as idle as possible- and I want to spend it here, at home. But... I thought I could invite Jack to stay with us for a week," she ventured somewhat warily. "If that's not troublesome."

"Jack? Why, isn't that lovely!" Di clapped her hands before her parents even had time to speak.

Nan's eyes pierced her twin's face over her glass of milk.

"You're glad?"

"Of course I am!" Di said fervently. "And I certainly do hope he'll make it for the party. I'd like to see _him_ dancing."

"Jack is a very good dancer!" Nan countered; just one bit too vigorously.

Di, not bothered by her outburst, only smirked and focused on her pancakes.

"I'll check that myself, if you allow me."

Whereupon, an uneasy silence fell over the table, which was not an often occurence at Ingleside. Walter shot a surprised glance of his lovely eyes at Di and turned to Nan.

"Did you get Ken's letter? He told me he wrote to you recently, but you never wrote back."

Nan nodded her head, thankful and relieved. She examined Walter's still- pale face and dark- circled eyes concernedly, but decided to spare him another spate of typhoid questions. She knew from Ken how irritated he was because of it happening with his ankle, and Walter was indubitably far more tormented.

"I didn't have much time recently. And I thought I would just meet him here, since he wrote to me that he would come earlier and wait for me," she answered casually and rather absent- mindedly, as she was busily chiding herself in thought. It made her skip the suddenly attentive look in Baby Rilla's eyes.

_("I can't get mad at Di! I simply mustn't- and I don't want to. She doesn't have to like Jack, no matter how much I may want that.")_

"I think he'll show up soon."

"I wouldn't be that sure, Nan. He may have some trouble finding time for you with all the Crawford, MacAllister and Elliot girls from the port following him everywhere, with Ethel Reese at the front, to cap it all," Di mumbled, eliciting a peal of laughter from Nan, Walter and the adults at the table; even Susan was heard snickering in the kitchen. Ken's good luck with girls had always been an object of jokes with the Blythes.

Only Rilla kept quiet, suddenly fascinated by the tablecloth.

"It would be difficult for someone more crude to elbow his way through in such crowds and you know how well- mannered Kenneth is," Di went on humorously, until she lifted her head to meet Rilla's eyes. Then her own green ones flashed insightfully. "Just why do you want to kill me, Rilla?" she asked over the table with a little archy note to her voice.

Rilla's mouth pouted miserably for a second; she ostentatiously took her plate away and left the room. Miss Oliver sent Di a sadly reproachful look, excused herself and followed her pet. The very moment, Shirley rose from his chair, noting that they should be heading for the station and, having primped alongside her younger sister in the hallway mirror, Nan went out, feeling rather puzzled about the whole mishap. The air seemed full of secrets and it was something new and strange at Ingleside.

Walter pulled Diana's arm and walked with her a few steps before the rest. Scraps of their visibly intense conversation reached Nan's ears, but she could make as much as nothing of them all.

"You're being vicious to her," Walter whispered hotly, but his voice soon softened. "I don't know why this is, but... it isn't like you, Diana. Has anything happened?"

Di was far more discreet and Nan only caught a few words, which didn't make much sense.

"Plain obvious... You know how Ken is-"

With a shrug, Nan gave up the eavesdropping, feeling quite ashamed for even doing it. She walked on with Shirley and Rilla, who seemed to have recovered and was now strutting on their way to the manse, where they picked Una and Carl. Baby Bruce also firmly insisted on going; he wouldn't miss an opportunity to meet Jem sooner. Nan and Rilla took his hands in theirs and assured Mrs. Rev. Meredith that he was no nuisance at all. At times Rilla peeked with rancour at the two in front of them, already walking with their arms joined, and Nan suddenly wished that Baby could have heard how fervently Walter had defended her.

But her sisterly considerations were soon replaced by more personal ones. On the sight of the railway station, Nan suddenly found that her heart had somehow found its way into her boots, and her tongue was too tied to answer little Bruce's countless questions properly. What in the world was she supposed to do when Jerry got out of that train? She didn't want to talk to him casually and act as if nothing had happenned- she had enough pride to cast aside such a solution- but she also didn't want to go on in this horrid silence. She wished she had asked Di about it. All of a sudden, Carl grabbed her free hand and pulled her behind him, yelling something about their being late and she almost tripped, pulling the two Babies of their families behind her.

When they burst into the platform, the train had just stopped and Jem, grinning joyfully, was throwing the door open from the inside. Nan didn't even stop in her stride; on the contrary, she dashed to launch herself into her brother's waiting arms.

"Jem- my!" she shrieked almost as stridently as the train. Somewhere in the corner of her eye, she saw Faith jumping off the train to grab Baby Bruce in her arms. Then Jem lifted her from the ground with a loud, facetious howl and she couldn't see a thing for a while. She swung her feet and clung to him closely.

In the commotion, she couldn't at first even tell whose limbs belonged to whom. Then Jem moved away, as Walter was putting his arms around Faith. Carl and Una were standing next to him and little Bruce called for Jem's attention.

"My foot, Nan!" Faith cried and they both bumbled around for a while, hugging and giggling chummily. "Look at you! You're almost my height! If you haven't been as busy missing me as you have been growing, I'm going to get miffed."

Nan took a step back and looked at Faith who certainly wasn't the ragtag urchin of yore and not even the pretty tomboy of a year ago any longer. Faith looked almost impossibly lovely and her smart travel suit in a pretty shade of coral gave her a novel, feminine air, but she was luckily still the same old laughing Faith.

After a while, when all the bags and boxes had been taken out, Una finally ventured with a question which had been resounding in Nan's head, but which her lips would never have asked.

"And where is Jerry?"

"Oh, he didn't go with us. He got a scholarship and had to stay a few days longer to set the matters straight," Faith said jauntily, peeking at Jem who whispered to her, almost inaudibly,

"Eight o' clock, in the valley."

As his sister was nodding eagerly and then blushing slightly for her eagerness, Carl playfully nudged Nan's side.

"I wonder whether that scholarship has blue eyes or brown," he grinned significantly.

And, poor boy, he was left to wonder for the rest of the day why would his old pal, Nan Blythe, glare at him as if he was Irene Howard!

* * *

"Just don't stay too long, Jem. The evenings are still so cold," Mrs. Blythe was saying at the table, when Jem announced that he was going to spend the afternoon on the shore and have his first swim.

He had already pleased Susan with wolfing down her roast and was now making her even more delighted, shoveling the whipped cream off his gingerbread with all the eagerness of a student who had spent a whole summer semester away from home.

"How about you, darling, do you have any plans for today?" Mrs. Blythe turned to Nan, but Jem answered for her casually, never lifting his eyes from his plate,

"Oh, she's going with me," at which Anne smiled rather ruefully, as she had been hoping to have a long talk with her namesake and tease out of her all the details about her bosom friend and Avonlea. It seemed, however, that Nan's sibilings had missed her as much as her mother, and Anne, with a sigh, granted them the precedence.

"I guess I have now," Nan said mockingly as Jem had not even dropped a hint before. She was fairly sure he had something to talk about in confidence and she quickly finished her mousse. Finally, someone wanted to share a secret with her, instead of shielding it!

She climbed upstairs to pack her new, red and white swimsuit which she had bought with Delia in Carmody. When she came down, Jem was already waiting for her. Shirley was sitting alone on the porch with a little disappointed look on his face.

"Can't we take Shirl with us?" she pleaded, indicating their younger brother with a move of her chin.

"Next time, Kitten," Jem promised, further confirming her conjectures and leaving her almost painfully curious.

They made it to the seaside quite quickly, despite a load in form of a crammed full picnic basket, walking past the closed and sad House of Dreams. Of the Blythe siblings, Jem and Nan had always shared a special 'sea fever'; Jem, as intent on becoming a doctor as he was, still did and always would harbor some of his boyish fancies of following in the footsteps of the Captain he was named after, and Nan derived a sense of freedom from the vastness of sea and its mighty waves.

As Jem was laying out Susan's goods, Nan threw her shoes off and waded in the shallow waters, stirring them with her foot. They had chosen the unfrequented part of the shore and now had it all to themselves. All the young people from the Upper Glen and Mowbray Narrows went swimming in the evenings, so they were free to play like little children, with Jem surreptitiously swimming up to Nan and dragging her underwater by the foot or pushing her under the highest waves to be knocked down and Nan splashing the salty water into his eyes. The Ingleside twins always swam without caps, much to the horror of Susan, who had been on her toes ever since Walter's typhoid, and Mrs. Marshall Elliot.

"As if swimming wasn't daring enough in itself! Nan, dearie, what will Mrs. Alec Davies say?"

"Ah, there's the rub," Nan had replied laughingly. "There are so many nice, nice things which we will never be able to do for fear of Mrs. Alec Davies 'saying something'. The world would be a better place, if the woman was dumb."

In order to reassure the fretful, Nan always took the cap with her, but never put it on. It was a terrible nuisance, always getting carried away with the waves. It came in handy, though, when they were collecting little white seashells for Mother to put around her flower beds.

The afternoon went by in a flash and Jem still didn't seem too talkative. Nan resolved not to force him to speak; she knew he would open up in his own time and she was enjoying his company as much as ever anyhow. She asked him to keep watch while she was changing back to her dress and teased the life out of him when she saw him standing on guard, his arms crossed over his chest, a stern frown on his face.

They walked along the shore barefoot, with a hamper much lighter now, to sit on the wharf in the harbor and watch the distant, mysterious lighthouse and the fishing boats coming in and out.

" 'Sunset and evening star, and one clear call for me!' " Nan quoted merrily, watching the ships weave their ways through the water. She shook her head, letting the wind trifle with her hair. Jem thought she looked like some sea creature, ready indeed to listen to the summons. He was no poet, however, so he just said simply,

"You'd better stay where you are. I want to talk to you."

Nan sat silent, with a patient air of a sister who knows her brother well enough not to interrupt him when he's carefully picking his words.

"You won't tell Di?"

She sent him a slightly offended look. She thought of Walter, who read his poems to Diana and shared everything with her; Jem would never sully his good name with writing a poem, but his frequent confessions had always filled her with pride and loyal devotion, which she hoped to be reciprocal. She liked to think that they shared the same bond as her twin and other brother.

"Have I ever blabbed on any of your secrets?"

"Never," he smiled and put his arm around her. "But this is different. And you two madcaps have not seen each other for quite some time; I bet she'll come to sleep with you today and then something might just blurt out. Kitten- do you think I'd make a good husband?"

Butter would have melted in Nan's mouth if she said she was surprised.

"If you address your wife by a proper, christian name instead of choosing animalistic pet names for her, I daresay you'll make the cut."

He laughed out loud, causing two seagulls to fly away in a flush. He poked her in the ribs, but his lips never lost a kind of sheepishness to their smile.

"So that's it, so early? We're losing you to some sophisticated Redmond student with bobbed hair and writing ambitions?" she asked mockingly.

This time Jem positively roared with laughter.

"Not- exactly."

At this point, though, Nan was already beside herself with impatience and started pinching him.

"Come on, Jem, don't torture me! I want to know everything about her- and if you don't tell me, I'll fall of this wharf making guesses."

"She is- crazy, most of all. I'd say just about as much as you are. Everything can make her laugh- and she does everything her own way- and she doesn't care a whit what others may think or say about it- but when she's mad, it's better not to get in her way."

"Is she pretty?"

"No-o-o; 'pretty' is not the word. She's- a rose, yes, a _red_ rose."

Jem turned his head to look directly into her eyes. It was a significant, telling look and Nan knew he wanted her to draw a conclusion.

"She can still climb trees like a wild cat, at the age of nineteen- and she can't cook at all and she's always saying she's going to make a poor wife- but she is the best- erm- _rider_ you'll ever meet, instead. And I'm fairly sure you'd love her for a sister-in-law."

Nan took his hand and shook it with all the might she could muster.

"James Matthew Blythe," she pronounced gravely. "If you have bad intentions, I swear I'll push you off this wharf myself. It's Faith, isn't it?"

To her immense surprise, he drooped his head and his auburn curls hung miserably.

"_My_ intentions could not be better, Kitten. The trouble is, I know nothing about _hers_."

Nan put her hands to her temples; it was only now that the surprise of it all got to her.

"But Jem- how- when?"

"Don't ask me that, Kitten. I don't know when it happened- I guess- it has always been so. It seems so, anyhow. I only know when I realized it, and it was shamefully late. Remember when we both came home late for Christmas?"

Nan nodded her head so eagerly that her hair fell on her eyes.

"We were on the train, having good time together and all- and then, out of nowhere, appeared some friend from her class. He was very- _sweet_ on her," the way Jem gnarled the word indicated that he would still love to get the poor Freshman in his hands. "She didn't seem to mind it... I _did_, though. Later, in the spring term, I saw red on every dance party. She used to ask me, you know, why I've suddenly gotten so _unsociable_."

Nan had to laugh. The thought of Jem as- unsociable!

"And I know that Susan would probably say we're children still- but it was when I started thinking whether she would agree to leave the Glen with me that I knew-"

"Whoa, Jem, wait. What do you mean- to leave?"

Jem bit his lip, as if he was owning up to an offense.

"I'd like to have my practice in Charlottetown. Sixty miles is not that far and it's a big enough city."

Nan sat stock- still, her hands clasped together on her lap.

"Kitten, why are you looking at me like that?" he pressed her hand a little. "You can't have thought we would all stay in Four Winds!"

"I- I don't know, Jem- I've always thought you'd take over father's practice, I guess."

Jem smiled a bit stiffly.

"I want to be a doctor, Kitten, not another Gilbert Blythe. When Aunt Marilla left me Green Gables, I felt positively trapped. I couldn't live there, even if I love the old spot; I would never get over all the missed possibilities."

When Nan didn't answer for a longer while, he said mildly,

"You'll arrive at the sime conclusion one day, Kitten, you'll see. Just wait until you have a go at another life, in a bigger city-"

"Mother and Dad _had_ a go at it, Jem," she broke in hotly. "And yet they settled nowhere else but _here_."

"True, but the times were different- and _they_ were different than we are," Jem's voice was quiet, with a significant note to it. "Don't dismiss Kinsgport before you give it a chance, Kitten. You'll- you'll feel good there, I'm pretty sure of it. Now, I'm supposed to see Faith today," he glanced at his wristwatch and sprang to his feet. "And I'm already late!"

Nan stood up and pushed him a little.

"Well, then don't stand here like that, hurry! I can carry the basket home myself, it's not that heavy. And you run!"

Jem was already on his way.

"I'll talk to you when I'm home!" he yelled from a distance.

Nan plopped back on the shore, clasping her hands over her knees, feeling dizzy. Jem and Faith- Faith and Jem. It didn't bother her at all; it seemed very natural and simply _right_, even if it came rather unexpected. Including Faith in the family would be a formality only, for Nan had always thought of her as of another sister; she sometimes wondered whether Joyce, so rarely even spoken of, would have been as good a friend as Faith. And if it was to make Jem happy, Nan would have accepted even Mary Vance. Reluctantly, no doubt, but she would have.

But- to have both of them, both her big brother and a bosom friend, gone somewhere as remote as Charlottetown? It was- unthinkable. Their talk brought back the old tormenting questions- were they to be torn apart in just a few years time? Would their beautiful comradeship turn into mere telephone calls, letters and scarce visits?

And yet- the way Jem spoke of this 'other life' made it seem strangely appealing. Perhaps- with given time and some friends by her side- she would learn to love it? All the promises of a big city now defiled before her eyes; parties grander than those at the Parkers'- fellow students with whom she could discuss books and poems and music and not just whether the hat which the Methodists' parson's wife wore to church was too frivolous or not- cafés in which they could talk of 'the woman question' and that madman Moltke and his figments of 'preventive war' over hot chocolate- dresses like those which Irene Howard wore; Nan hated to admit, but she _was_ always dressed most exquisitely. Perhaps she did, as Jem had said, belong to a life different than that of a small town? Perhaps it didn't have to mean losing some of its spirit- perhaps she could learn to love it as much as she loved the Glen? And maybe- she could, just like Jem, find a kindred spirit-

But- no. She didn't want to think just about that specifically. It seemed somewhat pointless and puerile, as if she was indeed going to Redmond to 'catch a man'.

She remained on the shore until late in the evening, looking out to the sea waters which slowly lost their merry, twinkling shade of light blue and took on a veil of ultramarine. It was an unbroken hue, as the sea had calmed and the waves were no more crowned with white hems. The sun slowly sailed away like a bright, golden, crimson-sashed boat and Nan stood up to watch it just a while longer. The wind whispered softly over the shadowy dunes, cooling her cheeks and further ruffling her already messy hair.

A young man, who had emerged from among the rocks, creeped up and caught one of the unruly locks. Nan threw her hands up, cried fearfully and faltered; she would have fallen had he not caught her in the waist and pulled her back to the steady ground.

"Just where were you going?" asked a well- known voice. From its humorous note, she understood that he had played a trick on her. "Joining the rest of the sea nymphs?"

"Ken! You- horrible- ", for a while she looked as if she wanted to snap him.

But she only flung her arms around his neck with a happy laugh, which Kenneth soon echoed.

* * *

_well, aren't I terrible, flooding you with my graphomania? so long, too! but it's the reviews, they are truly an irresistible inspiration. thank you all so very, very much! they always make me smile; and this time one of them left me rolling about my room with laughter. LOTRlover- point taken, and I hope this chapter will assure you that Nan will **not** bob her hair. ;-) _

_I also hope that you'll like this chapter, but I'm pretty anxious about some parts of it. I'm aware you might find some things too strong or some people out of character. I hope you'll let me know what you think, especially if something doesn't sit well with you._


	21. Armistice in the Valley

"Jem?" Nan's voice rang with surprise that particular moring, when she entered her brother's room and did not find him in it.

She looked around the little chamber, still expecting to see him somewhere; it was still so early! Where could he be? But his narrow bed was done carefully, making contrast to the crumpled pajamas, piling on the floor. The room had a rather queer look to it; it used to be full of ship models and sea treasures once, but recently it had begun to turn into a doctor's study, very much like Dad's downstairs. The desk was buried under Jem's notebooks; he had been cursed, as doctors are wont to be, with horrible handwriting and, to Nan, his notes were illegible for the most part. Thick coursebooks lay all over the place and, had Susan given her permission, Jem would have likely wangled for himself a skeleton to put in the spare corner.

"He left for the manse some time ago," Shirley informed her, appearing on the threshold; behind his back was his own room, spick and span, with a decided aviation theme. Shirley kept many airplane models which Susan dusted with patient devotion. "Faith invited him for breakfast. She said something about Mrs. Meredith forcing her to cook."

Nan nodded and laughed a little under her breath. It seemed that within three days, Jem had managed to convince Faith that he was as _sociable_ as she could wish him to be.

She went down with Shirley to sit at the merry breakfast table. Ken Ford joined them; he had arranged to come and pick up Walter and the twins; they were to help him clean the House of Dreams and, of course, Susan wouldn't let him slip the meal. After they had almost done justice to Susan's perfectly poached eggs, the absent brother suddenly showed up, bursting into the dining room.

"Mother Dearwums," he breathed, propping heavily against the table, a glossy paper folded in his hand. "Is there anything you want to say?"

"Well- good morning, son?" Anne spluttered with some difficulty, at which Gilbert gave a humored laugh. The rest laughed, too- but they soon stopped to warily look at Jem, who flailed his arms quite franticaly.

"_No_- I meant- is there anything you have to tell us all? Any exciting news?" Jem went on asking, at which poor Mrs. Blythe blinked helplessly and shook her head.

Susan didn't want to forget her place, but she felt Little Jem had quite upset Mrs. Doctor's Dear. She took a deep breath to protest when she, even she, noticed that Jem didn't really pay attention to his mother. He was fixedly looking at Nan. The girl, in turn, was very busy trying to be overlooked. She nibbled her biscuit slowly, casting her eyes down to her plate.

"So," Jem picked up, "you didn't write anything- or had it published?"

"Not recently, no," Anne answered, beginning to smile over her son's investigation.

"A- ha!" he cried at the top of his lungs, causing her to drop the smirk at once. "I knew it seemed somewhat different."

"Alright, Jem, enough of that," the doctor felt the need to intervene. "Such amounts of suspense might be too much for your curious mother. What is it?"

"I'm afraid, Dad, that I'm not the one to ask. Maybe Nan here could explain it to us."

Nan's eyes wandered around all the faces. Then she shrugged her shoulders and nonchalantly sipped her milk. It didn't seem as if she was going to explain anything in the nearest future, so Di reached over, intercepted the paper and unfolded it impatiently.

"Boys Own?"

"It's Baby Bruce's. Check the short story section."

Di raised one eyebrow, but leafed through the paper.

" 'Children of the valley'," she read slowly. "The winning story of our recent competition. Written by- Anne _Blythe_!"

Now everybody turned to Nan, who was almost choking on her milk.

"We didn't even pay attention to the name at first. It was only later that Jerry pointed out that all the names began with the same letters as ours-"

Nan spluttered milk all about the tablecloth.

"Jerry's here?!"

"If he hasn't died laughing by this point, then yes, he came today with the early train."

Nan moaned a little, as everyone at the table left their seats to gather around Di's back and read. Only Susan remained where she was, fork and knife in her hands, but not in use. She seemed petrified; and there was a rather scandalized expression on her face.

"As if it wasn't enough for Mrs. Dr. Dear to write- and for Walter's contraband poetry!" was clearly written on her face.

"Nan, darling- how did this happen?" Mother lay her hand on Nan's shoulder. All her children hawked over the paper, shutting her out, so she resolved to interview Nan before reading.

"I- I wrote it back in Avonlea. I was feeling low one day and tried to comfort myself by thinking of our old, golden days- and it sort of came out. Then, I confiscated little Fred Wright's paper for reading it in class- and I saw the competition ad- but I didn't expect anything- and now-"

"And now," Walter cut in, "I do not only have a mother who's a published authoress, but also a sister."

"No pressure on your poems, huh?" Ken grinned at his friend.

"Look, Walt," Di patted some excerpt with fer nail. "Your name is William, and mine's Dorothy. Is that-"

"A Wordsworth hint, yes," Nan nodded her head. She smiled back at Walter, who positively beamed, but inwardly, she was writhing with uneasiness. They were all reading voraciously- Ken grinned every once in a while- and Susan was still appalled. "It's more of a reminiscence than a story."

She had never meant for them all to find out! It was such a plain, unfanciful little tale for children! How was she supposed to know that it would be published- and that, of all the boys in Canada, it would be Baby Bruce who'd buy _this_ paper? And now Jem knew, and Faith and all of the manse folks-

"Did Jerry laugh at it very hard?" she asked Jem quietly.

"He _did _laugh a good deal- said he'd always known you'd be up to sandalize the Glen with something like it- but he liked it well enough; they all did. Although Faith said she'd never forgive you for calling her Flora."

"My only other choices were either Fanny or Fiona," Nan retorted hotly. "I'd like to see her writing a story with such alternatives!"

Di broke in her fit with an extatic,

"Auburn! You had my hair auburn! Why, Nan, I've always said you were the best twin I could ask for."

A peal of laughter rang over the table; then everyone fell silent, reading intently. Nan was twisting her fingers and perking up her ears to register every little laugh or a critical sigh. She was waiting especially for Mother to finish and deliver the verdict.

But Ken was the first to pronounce his.

"Well, Nantucket, should you ever fail to find editor in the future- you may safely turn to me."

Nan dissolved into a thankful smile.

"That's very kind of Canada's next press mogul to say," she winked at him slyly, "but I don't think I'll write anything else ever again. It's too exhausting."

"It would be quite a shame," Mother said, drawing herself up. Nan felt almost as if she was at Queens again, waiting for the results of her final exainations. She did well then- but now?

But Mother smiled her beautiful, _honest_ smile, sparkles dancing in her lovely eyes. Di folded the paper and playfully smacked her lips.

"I like it," Shirley said; it might have seemed a very scant praise, but, coming from him, it was a compliment of the highest order.

The doctor cleared his throat and everyone turned to him, as to a patriarch of the family. He had been secretly choking with laughter for quite some time now, watching Nan bite her lips with an anxious look in her eyes.

"My family name has not been disgraced," he pronounced in a dignified manner, at which everyone broke into laughter. Mr. Blythe kissed Nan's forehead. "Good job, Princess. I've always been proud of my womanfolk- and rightly so! I must be going now- Alice Harper has apparently gotten worse _again_."

Here, the doctor sent his wife a significant look and his wife furrowed her brow just as meaningfully. All the young folks looked away for some reason; it seemed to them rather quizzical that people of their age should keep secrets and exchange meaningful glances in company. It was true that Mother and Dad- Uncle and Aunt Blythe for Ken- remained very youthful and sometimes behaved as if they had fallen in love just the other day. But, with all the pitilessness of nineteen- year-olds, they considered it a privilege of their own age.

"But there's a benefit- I have to go to Mowbray Narrows and my Di tells me they have a new and apparently _divine_ milliner there," another chorus of laughter. "What would you say to a little reward by way of celebration, Nan- girl?"

* * *

Nan stood on her toes to see the photograph. Even having grown as rapidly as she had, she was still knee-high next to Ken.

"Maybe I shouldn't have encouraged you to become a journalist," she mused appreciatively. "You might have missed your calling."

They were in Rainbow Valley; they had tossed off the work at the House of Dreams much sooner than they had expected to and, quite naturally, split into pairs. Di and Walter had disappeared on another long ramble, and Ken and Nan sequestered themselves in the old, lovely haunts, ripe with the warm sunlight of the evening. Ken was snapping one picture after another, in a rapt frenzy.

He squinted his eyes and murmured contentedly with every shot.

"They're excellent- maybe even the best I've ever made. Now, turn your head, so I can take your profile."

Nan felt a bit stiff already; she had only asked him for a few shots, which she could send to Delia. Oh, but he was pleased and engrossed with his work!- she didn't want to interrupt him. And the photos were rather lovely; the sun made all the daffodils shine an even brighter shade of yellow and she fit in the framework with one flower tucked behind her ear, in her dress of yellow muslin.

"You look like a daffodil yourself," Ken indicated with a gesture that he wanted her to spin around. "And the light here is perfect."

Nan suddenly felt she could not take a moment more of posing. She languidly laid back on the grass and pronounced, with unshakable certainty,

"_Everything_ is perfect here, Ken, can't you see? As if nymphs, the Leimakids themselves, bestowed the Valley upon us in a rare moment of generosity. I doubt there's any place in the world which could be more beautiful than this one here," she mounted on her elbows when Ken sat down near her, smirking leniently. "You can't but admit it, Ken."

"You won't see anything like it elsewhere," Ken did admit, looking _right_ into her eyes, a meaningful note in his voice. Nan did not respond- but she did not look away, either. His eyes pierced hers for a long while, and finally he spoke softly- and very quietly,

"I read a poem recently, you know- it was in one of Persis's magazines- there was a very _intricate_ simile built in it, something about a girl's nut- brown eyes which could, quote, 'bring a ravenous squirrel to satiety'. I almost laughed my head off- but now, come to think of it, the idea, however poorly expressed, might have had something to it."

He noticed, at this very moment, that in this light or maybe- in this valley- her eyes looked different; they turned lucidly transparent and golden, like two pieces of amber.

She cast them down all too soon, though. Oh, she _knew _that a blush had crept up her cheeks- she could feel the warm flush spilling on them. It was not an altogether unpleasant kind of warmth- but it made her uneasy. Oh, everything about Ken was so smooth and velvety- his dark, inscrutable eyes screamed 'romance' as if it was written on his high forehead!

Luckily, there was always a playful twist to his half- smile and some mockery about his eyes, which helped her dismiss his compliments with laughter. It was a very faint and coy little laugh, though.

Ken lifted his camera to catch it- but Nan sprang to her feet, turning her head in refusal.

"Oh, no, enough of that. Delia only wanted one picture of me to hang in her parlor- and now she could paper all its walls with these! Too much pudding will choke the dog," she took his camera. "Let me rather take a few pictures of you."

But it turned out that Kenneth did not look good in daffodils. He laughed long and hard when she told him that, but Nan stood with her brow knitted. This was just the thing about Ken- he might have looked for the melancholy hero of a romance, but he somehow escaped effeminacy. He had gotten to be very manly, with his father's tall stature and broad shoulders and the strength and independence, so typical for his mother. His popularity with girls suddenly wasn't as peculiar and incomprehensible to her as it had been just a few months ago. She frowned, displeased with herself.

She led him into the thinner part of the shrubberies, straight to the bubbling brook, and she chattered ceaslessly and inconsequently until they reached it. Ken managed to get some jokes in edgeways, though- and they set her off laughing gaily. He told her about Persis and Nan listened voraciously; they had not seen each other for too long a time!

He now behaved very casually and it was so pleasant- so easy to be around him! His compliments were like darts to her pride; she knew that too many girls had heard them before- and too many girls were to hear them in the future. But he probably meant them in a brotherly fashion- and she had read too much into them. He had meant them to please her only.

"Self-opinionated, vain goose," she thought of herself. "Just why should Ken think of a girl like me?"

To hide her embarassment- and a quaint little sting of resentment whose cause she could not unravel- she hurried to the murmuring springlet and plunged her hands in its icy water. She had not done this, too, for such a long time!

"Come, Ken," she beckoned him with an imperative wave of her hand. "There should be a cup of birch skin somewhere in those wild roses. Let's take a cup o' kindness."

"There isn't," Ken called to her from a distance, to which he had obediently paced.

"Well, then, make one!" Nan called back impatiently.

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

He had surreptitiously walked up to her and the closeness of his voice started her to such an extent that she almost fell into the water. She mangled her wetted cuff and looked at him with facetious dismissal.

"You city- boy!" she said, shaking her head at him. The tone of her voice had nothing to do with earnest scorn, not in the least. But there was a distant air to her, as if some areas of life were inaccessible to him just because of this unpardonable quality of having grown up in a city. "Jem would never ask about that. And neither would Jerry."

Ken frowned and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'll manage," he said, bent over and cupped some water in his hands.

He was about to offer it to her- and she was about to burn with blush- when, thanks be, he tripped. He spilled the water, of course, at which she felt some relief; she couldn't have accepted it, but she also couldn't have refused. Now, she could even laugh impishly- and she did.

But- why didn't he get up for so long? Why was he still kneeling- _why_ did his face wince like that?

"Ken- what's wrong?" she fell to the ground right beside him. "Is it your ankle?"

"Hm," he could only murmur to acquiesce, it seemed. But when she slipped her arm under his and helped him to sit, leaning on a fallen trunk, his face had softened already. "It's alright, Nantucket, just a cramp."

"I'm so thoughtless, hauling you around with a lame ankle- again! Oh, I should have known-"

"Stop making a fuss, woman," Ken snarled jokingly. "It's nothing, Nantucket, I'm telling you. Cramps come and go."

But Nan picked up her long skirt and dashed to the house; she must get someone- so they would make sure everything will be alright with Ken's ankle. She did hear him calling after her, but ignored it. A cramp! Comes and goes, indeed! Wasn't it just like a man? And what if his ankle exacerbated and he couldn't play football for another semester in Toronto, his first semester after finishing his B.A.? He would strangle her with his two bare hands!

Or, more likely, he would be very polite and magnanimous about it. At this thought, Nan flew even faster- and she reached Ingleside in a heartbeat.

However, she came across an unexpected hindrance. Jem was sitting on the porchswing, alone, with Faith only to keep him company! This was a valued rarity at Ingleside; an intimate oasis of time without half a dozen of people hanging about. She hated to break in, but she _had to_ get someone! She resolved she would just breeze along to fetch Dad and she would lead him out through the back door. With the best of intentions, she smiled at them both in passing, and intended to quicken her step.

She was already at the doorsill when she felt a tug at her belt and a strong draw brought her to sit on Jem's knees. Faith laughed; Jem had grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled her back.

"What's the hurry, Kitten?" he asked laughingly- but his eyes were strange, as if- reproachful?

Nan didn't understand, but an amused voice spoke from behind her back this very moment- some explanation! She turned around, disbelievingly.

"Yes, Kitten, what is it?" Jerry Meredith asked, looking at her quite brashly. He was sitting on the other part of the porch, hidden behind a curtain of honeysuckle. That was why she had not noticed him, running from the Valley. He seemed comfortable in his wicker chair- and he looked more of his old jolly self; his black eyes not shooting darts at her anymore, and there was a humorous note to his voice, which she knew so well and which it'd lacked in Avonlea.

She stood transfixed, and also possibly gaped in sheer surprise. He seemed so- _friendly!_

But when he arched his thick brow in a playful expression, she haughtily tossed her head back. Oh- ho! Look at him now! What was he thinking? That it was up to him to decide when they were on friendly terms and when they were not? Oh, wouldn't she show him that she still had something to say on the matter! She nodded her head cooly- at which, to her rather reluctantly admitted satisfaction, he looked much meeker- and turned around to Jem again.

"It's Ken- or, to be more precise, it's his ankle. We were in the Valley and he tripped. I wanted-"

Jem didn't let her finish and leapt up from the swing with all the eagerness of a future doctor.

"Where is he?!"

"Right here," Ken said impatiently from behind his back. They all startled; appearing without a sound seemed to become Ken's new habit.

Faith laughed merrily and fled down the porch stairs to greet him. He gave her a quick hug, refused to be assisted in climbing the stairs and held his hand out to Jerry in a greeting gesture. Nan bit her lip, uncertain of what would become of it, but Jerry accepted it and smiled casually.

She heaved a little sigh of relief, but her ease was soon broken for Ken turned to her quite angrily.

"To go and make such fuss when I've told you it was a cramp," he shook his head at her. "Why don't you ever listen, Nantucket?"

Before Nan could repent of her sins, Di and Walter showed up, lured by the voices. They both greeted Jerry; but if Walter was genuinely glad, Diana was polite at best. _She_ noticed the sulky air of one who had not yet called a truce about her sister. She and Nan were not the similar, twinnish sort of twins, but each would go through fire and water for the other.

"And I'm so sick even of everyone asking about it! I'll have to think more seriously about the placard with information I've told you about," Ken turned to the other twin. "Really, Di, besides Walt here, you were the only person who didn't ram it down my throat."

"Only because I think it serves you right," Di said matter-of-factly, dropping on the swing next to Nan. "I bet you weren't careful enough in that football game."

"Always the caring, mindful friend," Kenneth laughed freely; he liked Di very much for her sharp tongue. She wasn't as brusque as that Mary Vance, but boy, she knew how to give it to anybody!

"Yes, Carrots, none of your lip! Is that how you treat a guest, young lady?" Jem chided her.

Nan smothered a chuckle because she knew the fury which Jem's nickname engendered in her sister, and Faith laughed outright.

"Somebody hand me a school slate," Di snapped madly. "And to think I came to warn you! Dad's invited the Fields from Mowbray Narrows- and she's rather nagging."

As if by a spell, the door creaked and the young people cautiously turned their heads. But it was only Dr. Blythe, looking rather funny and out-of-place, bearing a trace with almond crinkles.

"Susan sends me," he smiled at the hodge-podge of young boys and girls occupying his verandah. He, too, greeted Jerry with a firm handshake, after he had put the trace down and the rest of the assembly launched themselves to its contents. "My congratulations, Jerry. I'm hearing you took the Cooper Price this year."

"I did, sir."

"I'm very glad for you- that will certainly unburden your father a lot. Although he cannot complain in this respect, since _some_ of his children have been known to gain him generous convert parishioners," Mr. Blythe turned to Faith who shook back her thick, golden curls and grinned at him. Some people would have said that it was improper for minister's daughter to grin like that, but Dr. Blythe only smiled back.

"Word has it that you're going to study law. This is a good choice- it's a profitable as well as rewarding occupation. But, poor chap, I'm afraid Mrs. Marshall Elliot will never quite forgive for not becoming a minister as she had predicted!"

Nan didn't know what came over her to say what she said; it just came out by itself, and in a sneering tone.

"A minister, him! That would certainly be the day. He would argue with his congregation from the pulpit, giving people loads of irrefutable arguments, which would make them join Methodists."

As soon as the words were out, Nan's eyes grew big with terror. She crossed her hands over her mouth, but it was too late; she couldn't hold them back. Oh, what had gotten into her?

But- everyone laughed, even Dad who pretended to be cross, but soon had to give it up for a good hoot. And Jerry's laughter rose over all the others!

She didn't want to risk saying anything else that evening, though. She tucked her knees under her and settled herself on the porch steps. Shirley stepped out of the house with his quaint, quiet air and Carl jumped out of the Rainbow Valley to join them. Only Una was missing in their cheerful circle, but she wouldn't come; Baby Bruce wasn't feeling well. Jem was supposed to go with Faith to the manse to see him later.

"Well, Nan," Carl Meredith, who still had not deciphered Nan's glare from a few days ago, tried to mend his faces. "I haven't told you, but everyone in the Glen is curious about the number of proposals you got in Avonlea. I overheard Irene Howard with that Kirk girl- I can never remember what her name is- and they said you must have gotten at least one, for all your tricks and poses."

Everyone laughed light-heartedly, but with Nan not sparking with a retort and Faith sending her peculiar glances, they suddenly gazed at her in silence.

"Well, Kitten," Jem said pressingly- but still in a wary, joking way. "How many? Was it one only?"

Nan's silence spoke volumes.

"Why, Kitten, you don't mean to tell me that it's true! Somebody _proposed_ to you?"

"What is so surprising about it?" Nan flashed angrily; but it was merely self- defence. She had hoped they would never have to find out about this- oh, didn't Carl Meredith have a streak! She was only glad Father had retired to the house; he would keep her locked up for a year or so.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" Jem positively roared. "I would have come and-"

"And beat him black and blue," Nan finished his sentence with a bored way. "_That's_ why I didn't."

"Were there more?!" he was still at the top of his lungs.

"No," Nan pacified him, wearily still. "I've only had one proposal so far and that's just about enough for me. It was plain ridiculous, really- Faith can testify to it."

They were all stock- still. They had all had their innocuous little flirts- some of them harbored secret feelings. But- nothing like this!

"Aren't you forgetting about one proposal, Nantucket?" Ken asked suddenly and Nan turned to him with a shining face, thankful to the core of her being.

"It was more of a business transaction than a proposal, Kenneth," she laughed fondly at the memory. For Jem's sake, she hastily explained, "Ken and I have made a vow when we were- how old? ten or so- that if we didn't marry off by our thirties and _if_ I learned to cook we would marry each other."

"We were very anxious not to bring our families shame with bachelorhood. And she was especially nervous with all the 'competition'," Ken ran his eyes on all the siblings, grinning.

"And if you could see the conditions he laid down! For we put down a whole agreement. All the things I would have had to learn- pudding- and meat pies- and monkey-faces!"

"But I promised you a new hat every month, remember?"

"Ever _other _month, and I had to bargain for it," Nan threw his erswhile stinginess back at him. "My, but I do hope you'll tie the knot before you're thirty, Ken- I would lead a life of woe with a husband like you!"

Her bright, playful laughter was interrupted as soon as it started to ring.

"You oughtn't to be over-particular, young lady," counseled a dire voice from inside the house. "If you pick and choose for too long, you'll find yourself pining for any port in a storm in the end."

All the young people raised their eyebrows at a distressing spectre of a lady, who stepped out to the porch, escorted by Mrs. Blythe. The elderly woman turned to her presently.

"She's one of the older girls, I presume," she said, her eyes slowly moving from Nan's toes to the crest of her head. She was tall and decidedly bony, with accusatory look in her black eyes and rigorously pursed lips. The nagging Mrs. Field, obviously.

Nan suddenly felt very inappropriate; even if it was funny that the stately lady should think she had spoken in earnest. She removed the now- dry daffodil from her hair and cast it aside.

"How old are you, girl?"

"Eighteen. Just a few months from being nineteen, more accurately."

"I was married at your age," Mrs. Field snapped, as if this wedless state was a deep, dark failing. "If you don't take care all your beaux will slip through your fingers. You'll mark my words one day, miss."

Mother looked at Nan significantly, begging her without words not to fly back at the guest. Nan forced herself to comply and the Fields soon left. Then all the young people could laugh all they wanted and Nan could stick out her tongue at the departing chaise.

As _if_ nineteen was an age to think of marriage in earnest! Well, maybe, if one had what Jem and Faith seemed to have- they slipped away quite soon, to feast at Jem's secret spot for strawberries- it was as good an age as any other. But then- to think of marriage as a bargain and not a wonderful companionship which their parents- the Blythes, the Fords and the Merediths- shared! Such a decision should be honored- consecrated. But who could be _that_ serious in the month of June, when the whole world was basking in the sun, when one could just stretch in her old hammock, make little garlands of honeysuckle and adorn Crumble's head with them and when Susan opened the window to call them all in, promising smells wafting from behind her.

They all piled in; all apart from Nan who bounced off the porch quite unlike the grown-up, _marriagable_ girl. She wended her way to the Valley, thinking gladly of the daffodils gallore of which she could freely draw to garnish her room. Their smell was so sweet and intense, that it would feel like sleeping in a flower bud.

Jerry Meredith, overlooked because of the lush honeysuckle once again, sent a languishing look behind her. He marveled at her slender form, moving away with certain intangible, refined quality. He knew that people thought her proud and aloof for her way of carrying herself; but, for crying out loud, didn't they see how exquisite it made her look? Those never-slumping shoulders- her long, willowy neck and the dainty head which seemed to crown it- her slightly uplifted chin. Every gesture of hers was marked by grace and an uncommon kind of poise, which could not be calculated. There was, Jerry thought, something in her movements that made you think she never walked but always danced. Was he really the only one who saw it?

He remembered the admiring look he had seen in Kenneth Ford's eyes just moments ago. Apparently, he wasn't the only keen- eyed fellow in their bunch.

Then he rose from his seat and went inside, for Walter had been beckoning him; and Susan's roast smelled just _too_ good.

* * *

He found her where he thought he would, in the little maple grove at back of the Valley. She had showed him that place a long time ago, back when it was still her moss- carpeted play house. These days, it was her hiding place to which she escaped whenever she needed solitude.

She sat in the grass, her tucked knees encircled by her arms. He pulled up the legs of his trousers and dropped into the lush grass next to her, propping his elbows on his knees and putting his hands together. She didn't move an inch, as if she couldn't even see him; she kept looking fixedly somewhere in the distance. Well, if she wasn't stubborn!

But then, he had not expected anything else. And, if he couldn't say he liked her behavior- for they were still not on speaking terms because of it- he had to admit he was _impressed_. Nan was never meek and mild in times like these- she would not yield to friendly accosts if she felt any resentment still. She would hold her ground and, in his eyes, it was quite admirable. She had a mind of her own and she was not afraid to fight for it; she was also too candid to hide a grudge if she bore one, even if it was petty. Apart from cussedness, of which she undeniably had a generous share, it took a good deal of independence or 'spunk', as Uncle Douglas would call it- and Uncle Douglas had a way of hitting nails on the head.

Moreover, he conceded, she was right in her grievance; he was clearly at fault here. And he suddenly felt a keen need to apologize- to make peace with her whole- heartedly, leaving no undertones. After all, for all her pride and obstinacy, Nan had a redeeming quality- she had never been known to hold a grudge against someone who apologized to her. They _could_ reconcile, it was even quite likely!

He cleared his throat.

"I hope you won't hold against me that I do not come with a white flag," he ventured. "But they were nowhere to be found at the manse. I come in peace, though."

She still didn't change her position- or her intent gaze- but her mouth quirked amusedly at the corners. What a dainty little rosy mouth it was, too! But, there- he shouldn't be thinking about it; rather, he should go on with the apology since it seemed to be falling on good soil.

"I feel that I ought to apologize for my behavior in Avonlea," he took a deep breath. "It was unreasonable- I was being unreasonable, and I'm sorry for it, Nan. I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, Jerry, duck! Quick!" she tore her gaze off whatever it was that had kept her so preoccupied. "And, for pity's sake, be quiet!"

He was so surprised that he abided by both of her commands. But he had to ask,

"What's it all about?"

"Shh, you!" she put her finger to her mouth. "Be quiet or else you'll ruin everything. You could scare them off. I know," she admitted shamelessly, "that I shouldn't poke and pry like that, but I really only stumbled upon them by accident, and I couldn't resist a few more peeps. They look so _right_ together."

"Who looks right together?" Jerry asked, falling into confidential whisper.

"Why, Faith and Jem, of course. Who else would tryst in our old Valley?" Nan said the words with a smile, but Jerry rapidly perked up his head. She grabbed his sleeve and forced him to bend again, her index finger aimed at him warningly. In the distance, half hidden by the shrubberies, Faith was giving Jem a wild strawberry- right into the mouth! Then he pushed some branches away, so that she could go through the thorny coppice unscathed.

When they heaved out of sight, Nan finally let go of Jerry and only then felt a bit of embarassment. But she was determined not to let it show.

"There, I've saved their tryst!" she was so self- satisified because of that achievement that he had to laugh. "Older brothers can be such nuisance! Why they always want to spoil such moments, I will never understand. What could you possibly do, Jerry, even if I had let you go up to them?" she asked with a caustic note to her voice.

He grinned at her, quite cunningly.

"Who said I would have gone up to them? I only wanted a few peeps, that's all," he said, teasingly. He was used to this tone with her and he had mastered it, but his confidence only could only make Nan smirk. Two can play at that game.

"I highly doubt that, since it doesn't sound like the overbearing, overprotective brother I've known you to be," she shot back and shook her head decidedly. "Not at all."

"Oh, I've learned a lot since then," Jerry protested. "Let me present my train of thought. First of all, I consider Jem an honest man of honorable intentions."

Nan sat back, propping on her arm and laying her legs together on one side. A flurry of excitement manifested itself by a well-known tingling in her fingertips. She tilted her head expectantly; this promised to be an interesting conversation. Her lips seemed to smile as of themselves; she had to put a lot of effort into forming a focused expression.

"Secondly, I'm sorry to say that my leadership in the past had not brought much good to this sister of mine. A week of attending school in colorful stockings has left her slightly traumatized, I'm afraid. This, in turn, is linked with my third point-"

At this point, however, Nan giggled and waved her hand dismissively. He was so funny, in mock solemnity, when his eyes flashed with laughter!

"Oh, stop it, Jerry! You'll have time to practice such speeches in Kingsport; give it a rest now, over the holidays."

"No, let me finish. Thirdly, even if I wanted to be protective, I wouldn't have the clear field Jem enjoys with you. Faith wouldn't be quite as obedient- why, I think she could smack me- or, worse still, she could complain to Uncle Douglas! Then I'd consider myself in deep water. Therefore, to the mutual advantage, I let her slide."

Nan clapped her hands facetiously, all the while biting her lips not to laugh.

"And finally," Jerry put up his finger, as if to accentuate his last point, "Faith hasn't caused half the nuisance _you_ bring about," he said insolently. "Here's an example- it was you, and not her, who had induced somebody to propose. I'd say, then, that Faith doesn't need my surveillance as much as you still require it from Jem. At which," Jerry bowed his head, "I rest my case."

Nan sprang to her feet and stamped her foot on the soft grass.

"Jerry Meredith! I don't want you speaking of that proposal ever again! It's no laughing matter, as I was quite upset by it- and none of your concern, if I'm honest."

At the haughty, distant note to her voice, Jerry shot up, alarmed.

"Nan, I was just teasing," he said emphatically, catching her by the arms and shaking her a little. "I promise not to do it any more, but you- don't get mad. Not again."

"You shouldn't make promises which you can't keep, Mister Meredith," she retorted, but the unfriendly undertone was gone. She sat back again. "It won't be a quarter and you'll be making fun of me with your all might. But I've grown used to it."

Which was Nan's way of saying that she liked being exposed to it.

"Now you're hurting my feelings, Miss Blythe," Jerry fell into her exaggerated mockery instantly. "I'd like you to spend some more time with me now- and see for yourself that I can refrain from picking on you for at least half an hour! And a good opportunity presents itself, as Una's sweet cherry tree bore fruit for the first time this year."

Nan hesitated; she had planned to walk Ken home to make sure his ankle would not bother him. But he knew the way, after all- and he said himself that it was just a cramp!

She stretched out her hands and Jerry helped her up. They exchanged bright, honest smiles and headed for the manse. When they were to emerge from the Valley, Jerry took a step forward and held some branches away for her.

Nan stopped for a moment- she observed him demurely. Then she said,

"Apology accepted," as she walked on the cleared path.

And her words were only seemingly unrelated.

* * *

_here it is- another giant. I don't know what's gotten into me to write such long things; it's probably the ending vacation. __can you see where I'm going? I hope that it's at least slightly visible. I'd love to hear what your assumptions are!__ I hope to finish the story by October, but this is a very faint hope._

_once again, thank you for **all** the lovely reviews! they are so very appreciated. _

_LOTRlover, thank you so, so much for what you wrote. first of all, I was plain deliriously happy when I read you liked my portrayal of Nan, as she is always my priority. secondly, I'm glad you found Nan and Jem's talk realistic; especially with what you wrote about your own brother. and I hope you'll be seeing him often enough. :-) and thirdly, I'm glad you didn't dislike Ken. I was slightly apprehensive about it- but he **is** a flirt, as you rightly wrote. as for the pairings- I may try to tie in some, just a little of Faith and Jem, but I'm not sure about it; I wouldn't like it to come out unrealistic. as for Walter/Una I do like them together, but reflecting Walter's poetic ways is a bit too much for me, I think; I'm not that good with the language. I do hope you can forgive me! _

_IMPORTANT_

_**Alice Harper and Mrs. Field both belong to LMM**. the latter was as much as mentioned in her 'The Blythes Are Quoted', so I 'utilized' her. the situation which takes place is also taken from the book, hence the underline in her speech. the other underlined part is a quote from 'Rilla of Ingleside'; there it refers to Rilla, but I indulged myself and used it for Nan.  
_


	22. Night Time in Dixieland'

_Author's Note:__ t__he time has come for me to put my AN at the top again. I know, I said I'd finish by October. and I solemnly swear I will never make a promise again, if I can't keep it. _

_first, the formalities: the underlined part comes from LMM's 'Anne of the Island'. I think you remember who it referred to there, right? :) the book mentioned in this chapter is Angell's 'The Great Illusion'. the song, which also happens to be the title of the chapter, is 1914 song of Irving Berlin called 'When It's Night Time in Dixie Land'. _

_now, the pleasant part: I want to thank you for all the wonderful reviews. I lack words at this point, to express how grateful I am for all of them; but you should know that am very, very thankful for all of them! _

_LOTRlover, thank you so much for 'your continued support' as the ff messages put it. ;-) I wanted to be as nice for you as you've been for me, and work in some Jem and Faith. but it's no good, **I'm** no good._ _I'm so sorry for that. I'm always at a loss with Faith; from the first chapter of 'RoI', I always get the impression that she changed much from her Rainbow Valley days- and I feel I haven't deciphered the nature of that change._

_Ann, thank you also! it's great to hear that you've been reading my story and that you like Nan and Jerry!_

_oh, and I know we've already exchanged about ten PMs, but I still want to thank lena- jade here. you were so unbelievably wonderful and kind to me! thanks to you I now know I can follow my own imagination as regarding the third generation in my other stories and it's been wonderful to talk to you about the books in general, expecially since I agree with you in so many points! also, I want to stress here, that **the idea of a debate between Nan, Jerry and the Douglases came from you**. as well as many others, just as wonderful. _

_Caz, Evening- I couldn't possibly leave you out! it feels so good to still be getting reviews from you, after such a long time and such an amount of my bad writing! thank you both from the bottom of my heart!_

_I'm not pleased with myself at all; but at least this chapter is of a more common length! also, if you could tell me- can you see where Walter's behavior in this chapter comes from? or, should I say, do you remember? 'cause if not, I'd have to rewrite it, in case it was confusing. _

* * *

Had any of the Glen St. Mary's inhabitants happened to be awake and outside at the break of dawn on that late June day, they would quite possibly have been rather outraged at the sight of two grown girls in scandalously short skirts- knees showing!- running barefoot towards the maple grove near Dr. Blythe's house. Even more revolting was the fact that they looked in no way ashamed of their pitiful appearance; quite the contrary, they seemed perfectly pleased, prattling and giggling crazily. Worse still, at careful examination, they would have proven to be the two elder daughters of the aforementioned doctor!

But, fortunately for the incorrigible two, the Glen St. Mary's inhabitants would rather spend their wee small hours in their beds, gaining strenght for another busy day of field work, church meetings and gossiping.

The twins had slipped out of the house to play badminton in Rainbow Valley. It was the surprise which Ken had set up for Nan and Jem's homecoming. Great cities' favors are uncertain and tennis had already been labeled _passé_ in Toronto; badminton was now the recent rage. Ken had brought all the equipment needed and Walter helped him to collocate it in the Valley, making sure he wouldn't hang the net on the slender arms of White Lady. Walter would never have allowed such sacrilege.

They had no proper clothes for the game, so Diana dug out their old sailor dresses. They were, quite frankly, much too short, but it didn't bother either of them. In fact, it gave them a pleasant sense of doing something Mrs. Elliot would disapprove of whole- heartedly; she was a dear, of course, but the number in which her advice and commandements came, made them wish to do just the opposite thing at times. And nobody would see them in the Valley, anyhow.

The grass was still bathed in dew drops at this time of day, and their feet were already completely wet. But Nan didn't mind. If there was any time in the year to have your feet wet with dew, it was in June. And she was exhilarated to finally spend some time alone with Di; strangely, they had not had much time for each other over the past week. It was partly because of Ken who had lately taken to monopolize Nan's time with trips and invitations, and partly because of- Walter. He seemed very somber those days; he tried to evade company and only allowed Di's consoling presence and, sometimes, Baby Rilla's. Nan didn't press, but her heart sometimes fluttered to see his eyes flash with a peculiar shade of pain. She had spoken to Dad, and he had made his best to assure her that Walter was physically healthy. His woes, then, must have been of mental kind, and Nan had initially decided to let Di do what she was best at; comfort their brother. She never asked her sister about causes, just as Di never asked her about Jem. But this time, she felt, any help could be needed.

"This hat Dad bought you is so pretty!" Diana was saying, handing her sister a raquet and digging in her bag for a shuttlecock. "I am jealous, I'll admit that. I think I _will_ go to Mowbray Narrows and buy myself something similar, Nan, whether you like it or not! You can't forbid me one identical thing in my closet!"

Nan laughed and struck the shuttlecock so energetically that Di did not manage to run up to it in time. The hat _was_ beautiful; a modest straw Florentine with an elegant, brim sash of black velvet to make up for the modesty.

"Indeed, I can't and that's for a very specific reason. Dad has bought two of those hats. He hid the other one in his study, so that Mother wouldn't accuse him of favoritism in 'his own flesh and blood', as he put it," this time Nan didn't make it to the birdie. "You daddy's girl!"

Diana chuckled smugly.

"Never tease the _status quo_, Nan. It is owing to my hair mainly," she sighed with resignation, casting a doleful glance at the unruly curls, which somehow escaped her blue ribbon and bounced on her shoulders with every move, "that I convinced him to let us go to Redmond sooner."

Nan purposefully missed.

"I honestly don't see, Di, how you can run down your hair. It's lovely- it makes you so much like Mother. I wish, sometimes, that-"

"Don't, Nan!" Di cried with a touch of exasperation. "I've had it up to here with everyone trying to convince me it is beautiful. It just_ isn't, _no matter how many people assure me otherwise. And it is an especial rub if you or Walter do it, with that dark hair of yours!"

Nan promptly decided to depart from the troubled waters. Di would never get over her hair, world without end, however lovely it might have actually looked. She resumed the game.

"And, while we're at it, how did you even manage to bring Dad round?"

"Oh, that wasn't too difficult. Dad is such a dear! All I had to do was make him think that _h_e was the one who wanted us to go in the first place."

"Di- _ana_!" Nan cried with pretended indignation. "How wicked of you!"

Di laughed and sent the shuttlecock into the shrubberies.

"I'm not quite sure how I should take it, Nan. You make a rebuke sound as if it was praise," she waited, as Nan plunged into the bushes. "But, in earnest, it was easier than I had expected because of Walter. He was so detrmined to go- Dad couldn't refuse him that. And who could take care of him better than our two?"

Nan disrupted her search and came close to her twin.

"Di, maybe I shouldn't ask... But I feel I must know, or I'll be sick with worry. Is- everything- _good_ with Walter?"

Diana bit her lip at the probing question, but remained silent.

"Please, Di! I've already spoken to Father, but I still-"

"Oh, you mean that!" Di clasped her hand impulsively. "No, it's not like that. He is getting stronger every day. I don't take him for such long walks for naught, after all! And he's made more progress at Latin than I have, if that counts for anything. Really, Nan- girl, there's no reason for you to worry."

This term of endearment was very rare in Di's mouth, reserved for special occasions. Di was not one to fall for sentiments, so Nan felt she could safely believe her.

"Look, Nan, I can't tell you- I _won't_- but I want to ask you something. What would you advise someone, who-"

But Diana never finished her question. A tall figure emerged from the trees and waved at them briskly.

"Jerry! Hello!" Diana answered with her usual joyfulness; she had already learned from Nan about the truce, and so she called back her own troops instantly. Nan, on the other hand, blushed a deep shade of pink and knelt on the ground, running her fingers through the grass blades. Di looked down at her, clueless.

But Nan had a very specific reason to kneel, for when she did, her skirt hid her ankles. Somehow, she just wasn't comfortable with them unsheathed around Jerry Meredith. Thanks be that shuttlecocks got lost in the grass at certain times in life!

"A new dress, Diana? Very becoming," Jerry laughed, eyeing Di casually and she answered, just as jauntily,

"Cut it, Jerry! You can see we're playing, can't you? Besides, you and Jem took off your shoes yesterday. Talk about being discriminatory!"

"I can't deny that- but our _knees_ didn't show."

"Neither do mine!" Di flashed exasperatedly. She liked Jerry a lot, but she could never hold her temper around him, with this teasing manner of his. She could never understand how Nan found their talks entertaining. She would have snapped his head off after a few moments. "Tell me rather, what you're doing here so early?"

"Aunt Ellen likes me to check up on their old place," Jerry indicated the house on the hill with a move of his head. Then he turned to Nan, concernedly. "Does your ankle hurt?"

"No, I'm just- looking for our birdie. Di had her head in the game today," she cast her twin a sly glance.

But Diana waved her hand dismissively.

"We can spare one, Ken's brought heaps. We should head for home now, so that we can slip in before Susan sees us like that. Why don't you come with us, Jerry? It's on your way, isn't it? And you know Susan will be more than glad to feed you."

Jerry smiled, pleased at Diana's renewed friendliness. He stood between the two of them and took over the bag with raquets.

"I can't resist Susan's breakfast, not after Jem's serving oatmeal every time his shift was on," he shivered playfully.

Nan would rather have remained as she was- in spite of how cold her feet were getting- but she had to obey. She stood up rather lingeringly. Jerry didn't look; he did not even glance. It should have been relieving- and relieving it was!- but it was also a bit puzzling. He seemed to avoid looking down. Was something _wrong_ with her feet that made them so unpleasant to look at?

It was a strange experience; Nan felt relief and something akin to disappointment. It didn't seem possible to feel two contradictory emotions at the same time, but- it was! She shook her head, as if she wanted to shake out one or the other; she just wasn't sure which one.

In order to hide her confusion, she talked for two. All three of them walked in a comfortable air of companionship, but Diana was mostly silent. When Nan and Jerry got to discuss things, the whole world disappeared for them.

"So, did you read Angell, as I've suggested?"

"I did, just a while ago, actually. Aunt Ellen had told me she had had it in their old library. But it was my second read already, and it left me just as unconvinced as the first one."

"How come?"

"Well, first of all- it's dated at this point. It might have well been relevant fours years ago, but it doesn't seem to apply any longer."

"Fours years is not that long for economy, Jerry! It doesn't change that fast."

"You'd be surprised. It may not seem to change too fast in places like this, but when you see a bigger town, you'll-"

But Nan broke in, sick and tired of all her close ones being so taken with the cities.

"Even if it does, then Angell's points have even more worth."

Jerry sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not quite sure they had any worth in the first place, Nan."

"Whatever do you mean?"

At this point, Nan was walking so briskly, that Diana and Jerry had to trot lightly to keep up with her. She was always envigorated beyond recognition when she had a chance to argue.

"I don't really see how conquest can sap- is that the word?- the economic productivity of the conquested area. None of the colonies seems to confirm Angell here. Also, I don't buy into the idea of interdependence of national economies. Think of the Baghdad Railway. There were many cross purposes there."

"But that's past. The construction is underway!" Nan cried passionately.

"And is that something to be glad about? The Kaiser getting even more powerful thereby?"

Di waved her hand carelessly, feeling that she ought to add something to the animated discussion every once in a while.

"Has Mrs. Douglas drafted you for her army, Jerry? And when is your raid on Germany due?"

Jerry ignored her; it was rather impolite on his part, but she didn't take offence. She knew he was just engrossed. She had her own worries, too, and it seemed to her that her dearest brother's torment was far more important than some distant, vague idea of war! She agreed with Nan whole- heartedly. Wars were a thing of the past.

"Furthermore, Nan, this war could not even be that much about economy- just about sick ambition and greed for power."

"What power can you talk about without economic prosperity?"

Jerry was silent for a while, and Nan felt an evansecent pleasure of having brought him round. But he had an answer- of course he had it.

"Just one detail, Nan- did you notice that Angell doesn't call war 'impossible'? He calls it 'futile', and only that."

Nan opened her mouth- but she didn't say anything. He had outtalked her this time. They walked on in silence, Di still silent and Nan visibly anxious after his last words. Jerry was a bit grim; then he took a step forward, turned on his heel and stood right in front of her.

"Oh, unfurrow your brow, Nan-girl!" he admonished, playfully pretending to straighten the two demure bows with his finger. She laughed and brushed his hand aside. "Let's leave that aside for now. We can get back to it later- with Uncle Douglas and Aunt Ellen maybe? They asked why you hadn't paid them a visit yet."

They had reached Ingleside. Di slipped into the house, leaving them alone. Nan thought with gratitude that her twin had the most tactful way of making herself scarce.

"I will, I promise. I've missed them a lot. I feel an ingrate to say so, but I've missed Mrs. Ellen a bit more than I've missed Mrs. Elliot... But don't tell on me! She would never invite me for doughnuts anymore if she found out."

"But then, Aunt Ellen makes great pies. Ain't no macanaccady!" Jerry winked, taking off Mr. Douglas as only a nephew could.

"And that you may tie to!" Nan, an Ingleside girl through and through, replied facetiously.

For a moment they stood in silence, not having much to say, but also not quite willing to part ways and mingle in the Ingleside crowd, which, by the sound of it, was beggining to gather at the table. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, anyhow, at least not initially. Because then, Jerry took a step closer and paid Nan a quaint, penetrative look. His black eyes darkened and took on this piercing quality which she had only seen in Avonlea thus far. She had grown used to seeing them laughing- now they had a world of meaning in them, but it was utterly inscrutable to her. Nan felt her heart beating strangely; she felt it to the tips of her fingers. A little shiver took over her shoulders when she wondered what in the world could make her blush under Jerry's gaze. He had not done anything to frighten her and yet, she was very frightened.

It was only Jerry's friendly tone that calmed her.

"You know, Nan, I've missed our squabbles. No one in Kingsport had quite your flair for arguing."

"Why, Jerry, you don't mean to tell me that college girls make such poor opponents!"

"Lamentable," he was succint.

Nan laughed light- heartedly, and climbed the two verandah stairs as she had heard Doc's - or, rather, Mr. Hyde's - threatening growl. Crumble must have eaten his share of Susan's leftovers yet again.

"Well, then, you should come round today and we can quarrel all we want. I'll have read the paper by the time, so I'll be better prepared to beat you! And there's enough noise at Ingleside now, with all of us back, to disguise us," Nan smiled slyly. "You will come, won't you? Susan is making monkey faces," she added by way of inducement.

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss the monkeys," Jerry laughed and thrust his hands into his pockets. "_Or_ our quarrel."

Nan blushed before smiling and hurrying inside. She heard Crumble's pitiful cries; Mr. Hyde must have been giving him a right good licking.

"I must change... Could you distract Susan before I put on something proper? Or maybe, help my kitten first? I think Mr. Hyde is tormenting him."

She ran up the stairs as Jerry sent her a fondly amused glance. Then he went into the kitchen and asked Susan to intervene between Mr. Hyde and Crumble; and so when Nan came back, she found the poor housemaid rather disgruntled, with grateful Crumble coquetting her to let him sit on his lap.

"I say, Mrs. Dr. Dear, it isn't proper for a cat to be around the table at mealtimes."

Nan did her best not to laugh and took the kitten away; and Jerry winked at her surreptitiously from behind Susan's back.

* * *

Faith Meredith was sitting on one of the mossy stones around their old banquet board. She was doing something she wouldn't have been caught doing outside their old, dear Rainbow Valley. She was snatching off mayflower's petals- how outraged Nan Blythe would be!- playing the oldest, silliest game of all. At times, a quiet murmur could be heard.

"Loves... Loves not..."

Suddenly, someone covered her eyes from the back. She knew perfectly well who it was; no other hands could be so big and warm.

"He does," Jem said, sitting on the stone next to hers. She dimpled as his hand found its way into hers.

It made her so glad to be with him, alone and so close. It was Jem, her old chum who, as she was wont to say, was always there to boss her around when Jerry could not. Faith wasn't wont to reveal, though, that Jem's bossing wasn't quite as unnerving as Jerry's. She knew him so well- and still she found yet another admirable- _lovable_- qualities about him almost every day, like gold mines. Faith had heard Dr. Blythe say something like that a few days ago, concerning his wife of course, and had found it very fitting.

Take his red curls; even though he never seemed to have the mind to trim them properly and they often hid his frank, hazel eyes. His ears, the only ones in the Four Winds probably, nice enough to please Susan. Or this look of sheer adoration, which crept up on his face every time he saw her. Faith always made sure she looked her best before meeting him; but he had looked just as delighted when he had found her donned in an old, dowdy dress, decidedly on the skimpy side, Uncle Norman's old handkerchief over her head, shifting tick feather in the manse garret.

She loved Jem so- had always loved him! And it made her almost painfully, deliriously happy to know that he loved her. Painfully, for she was very ashamed for her past evil- doing. What a goose she had been, flirting and dancing her feet off with the Sophomores in Kingsport, right before Jem's eyes! And how blind she must have been not to see his feelings for her or her own ones? Now, she couldn't doubt that he loved her even if she wanted to- and she didn't!

At first, she had been afraid. She had been scared by the thought of losing something of their old comradeship. IAfter all, it was so much easier to fall apart when you were sweethearts than when you were just good friends! Faith had also been unable to confide in anyone and being unable to do anything did not sit well with her impulsive nature. She couldn't talk about it to Una, as her sister was even more quiet than usual these days, and Faith was quite sure that dear little Una cared for someone- and that her feelings were unrequited. Faith couldn't bring herself to tell the Blythe twins about it, either. They had been friends for so long- but she did not know what they would say for all this? And if anything went wrong by some horrid chance... Faith had more than just one friendship to consider.

But then Nan started smiling sagely whenever she saw her with Jem, and Di seemed to be always maneuvering their big crowd to leave them two alone. It felt more and more difficult not to yield, when the whole world seemed in favor- Mrs. Elliot in particular. The rose of love made the blossom of friendship pale and scentless by contrast and Faith gave in shamelessly.

She tilted her head so that his kiss would land on her cheek.

"I've picked some mayflowers so you need not go and look for them," she told him, handing over the bouquet.

He smiled puzzlingly- then produced another posy from behind him. Faith thanked him, her face creased by dimples.

"Faith," Jem spoke, twiddling the mayflowers nervously, "You wouldn't mind doing me a favor, would you?"

She smiled, disarmed.

"Of course not. What is it?"

"Will you go with me to the Parker's dance next week? I'm not too happy to go; I always get bored with Andy and Bill. And since we're allowed to bring partners, I thought you'd keep me company."

Faith blinked a few times- then frowned- then stood up and folded her arms across her chest. It was one thing to have his sisters exchange their all-knowing looks, but it was another to show up at a dance together. And he acted so casual about it!

"You'll have to make a _bit_ more of an effort, if you want me to accompany you anywhere, Jem Blythe," she told him angrily.

Jem stood up beside her.

"So- you won't go with me?"

"Not if you only want me to go, because you expect to get bored," she was determined not to be coaxed over by the pitiful pout of his boyish lips; but it was a hard trial. "Besides, Cora Parker will be there and she will be more than glad to dispel your boredom. And, by a stroke of luck, maybe even Sissy Flagg," she added- quite viciously, it must be admitted.

Jem winced, but then smiled, rather unexpectedly, and she felt her hands being enveloped by his.

"Don't be cruel, Faith."

"Don't be careless," she retorted, trying to snatch her hand away. It was fool's errand, though, as Jem would not let her go.

"I'm not," he protested, curbing her tussling with veritably no effort. "I'm sorry, I've expressed myself clumsily. I didn't want you to go just because I would get bored- but because I knew only you could turn it around for me," he put it very simply and Faith froze.

"Oh," she said and a sheepish expression passed over her lovely face, which was a rather rare occurence.

Jem covered a grin.

"Would you agree to go with me, then?"

She nodded, but was feeling too embarrased to say anything.

"Are you sure?" he pressed, releasing her hands.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," her dimples made an appearance again.

"Thank you, Red Rose."

Faith didn't like anyone else using this pet name except for Uncle Norman, but it sounded very fittingly coming from Jem. He held her hand up and bent, as if he wanted to kiss her hand- then he perked up, pulled her closer and kissed her blushing cheek instead.

"To think you acted jealous of Sissy Flagg," he said smugly, putting his arm around her.

She smacked his shoulder playfully.

"Aren't you a bit too sure of yourself? Should I remind you of Bob Pringle? You know, the one we met on the train? Poor boy, he wrote me two letters, asking about your scowls and glares!"

They walked amidst the dark pines for some time, laughing a good deal, and holding hands. Then, they headed for Ingleside, all lit with lamps and effervescent young people. They were home alone; Miss Oliver was in Charlottetown, visiting Mr. Grant, as usual on weekends, the doctor had taken his wife and Rilla for a visit, and Susan had vanished somewhere. Not without a trace, though; a plateful of monkey-faces lay on the table. Faith took one and looked around for her siblings, but only Carl and Una were around. Jerry, she remembered, had had to drive Mother Rosemary and Baby Bruce to Lowbridge, rather reluctant to take part in their errands. Una was knitting in the corner. Di was doing a good job of heartening up both her and Walter, who seemed to have lost the melancholy air which had been accompanying him lately. Carl was horseroughing with Shirley; and, although they both were involved in their scuffle, only Carl's voice was to be heard. Shirley remained as quiet as ever.

Jem found his way in between the two of them, and Faith sat down in the armchair next to Magog with a girlish snuggle and her lovely, golden laugh. She observed them fondly and only then looked around for the source of noise which filled the Ingleside's parlor.

Nan and Ken were on the piano together, playing four hands. Nan had browbeated Ken into singing and singing he was, though he cringed, knowing better than anyone else how bad he was at it.

_'Come down to Dixie Land,_

_That's the dearest place of all!_

_Listening to the crickets' call,_

_When the evening shadows fall,_

_Down in Dixie Land.'_

It was a lovely song; something new, which Faith had not heard before. Ken must have brought the notes. She critically examined the two, sitting closely on one stool. Their shoulders were touching and they both turned their heads to whisper into each other's ears and then laugh at things only they understood. Faith could not help but be a little disgruntled. She knew she had no reason to be mad at Nan- but _knowing_ was very different from _feeling_! And wasn't Nan sensible enough to know how Ken Ford was with all girls? He was a perfectly nice as a friend; on condition that he remained a friend only. Nan had always claimed so herself; but it seemed that she had quite forgotten.

Jem's laughter rose over the singing voices.

"Nan, for pity's sake, let him stop!"

Nan glared, but Ken paid him a thankful look.

"I never should have agreed in the first place. But I couldn't have another Blythe sister angry with me on just one day!"

"Who was angry with you?"

"Why- Baby! I had teased her a few days ago- just a little!- and she was mad at me. So, on my way here, I bought her a chocolate duck at Carter Flagg's, because I remebered she'd always liked them. And, what do you know, she got even more mad!"

"And you were surprised, Ken?" Faith asked him, with slight disregard. "She is bending over backwards to make us all see she's not a baby anymore and you seem to be the most difficult one to convince of us all. I really feel for her."

Ken looked at her peculiarly, wondering where Faith Meredith had gotten this hostile attitude from. Then he glanced at his watch and stood up.

"It's high time I left- or I will be falling out with the Meredith sisters, too."

"I'll see you out," Nan offered.

The evening was as dusky, velvety and rose- scented as only evenings on the Island can be. Nan walked with Kenneth to the gate, drinking in all the loveliness around them and humming under her breath. He heard the soft, quiet sounds and smiled at her.

"Don't you think it's just like in our song? 'When the evening shadows fall', that sounds like a perfect beginning to a poem. I should drop a hint to Walter."

"I hear no crickets," Ken said solemnly, "But there are dixies here, and they are even so well- mannered as to see out their visitors."

She laughed contentedly, closed the wicket behind him and leaned on it. She usually waited for Ken to round the curve of the road, at which he always stopped and waved. This time, though, he turned around on his heel as soon as he had stepped past the gate.

"I met Alice Parker at the store today," he said abruptly.

Alice had invited Ken to the dance.

"I barely even know them."

"Oh, they seem to be inviting everyone they can from all over Four Winds and Lowbridge. I think Andy is going to announce his engagement- imagine that!" Nan laughed, but Ken broke in.

"What dress will you be wearing?"

"My pink silk, the one I got from Aunt Diana for my birthday. But- just why would you ask me that, Kenneth? Are you worried not to show up dressed alike?" she asked rather impishly, but Ken only smirked.

"No, I wanted to know what flowers to send you. That is, of course, if you agree to go there with me? I wouldn't feel comfortable alone."

"Why don't you ask Ethel Reese to come with you? Or Adela Crawford? Or Rosie Macallister?"

"From the conceit of the Elliotts, the pride of the MacAllisters, and the vainglory of the Crawfords, _and_ Ethel Reese, good Lord deliver us," Ken only rolled his eyes.

He finally managed to win her over and said his goodbies. Then-

"Thank you, Nan-girl," he said quietly, bent over the gate and kissed her cheek. It wasn't anything unusual- it wasn't the first time he had done it- but Nan felt that the kiss was slightly too long to be just a friendly peck. She propped on the Ingleside gate heavily, her hand pressed to her cheek. She was so surprised that she didn't even wave back to him, when he had made it to the bend.

Neither did she notice Di, who had followed them from the house and observed everything from the porch, frowning.


	23. A lie and an alliance

_Author's Note: as you can all see- I did not die. I feel like I'm about to, though, because I am so ashamed for abandoning this story and you all for so long! I don't even have a proper explanation or an excuse. life just got in the way. I think I needed a little breather. what I'm most sorry for is that I did not reply to some messages. I'll say it again here- I'm very, very sorry. _

_it seems that my break didn't do much good. I'm not pleased with this chapter at all, but with only two chapters remaining, I wanted to speed things up a little. I'm particularly displeased with how clumsy and unlike LMM's wonderful writing this last conversation has turned out. I'll rewrite it one day, I promise! I'd like to hear your thoughts about Norman and Ellen- do let me know whether I went overboard or not. _

_and, finally, I wanted to thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews I got from you the last time and again, I'm so sorry to have kept you waiting for so long. _

_Ann, Elia - I know, I'm dragging it on terribly. I just can't get enough of writing about Ingleside and Jerry, you see. :) the climax is bound for next chapter, I promise. I actually even fear it is a bit too much for LMM fanfiction but then, thinking about Nora Nelson and Jim Wilcox in AoWP... it doesn't have to be. as for the question about Jerry knowing about Jem and Faith, I didn't really put much thought into it, as I focused on something else. I guess he had just gotten used to it in Redmond, as you said. _

_Anne, catEyes- even though it's been a while I still wanted to thank you for your reviews. they're always such joy! and I agree, I would love to see some new Nan/Jerry stories! _

_CathPontmercy- I'm glad you agree with the idea of the triangle; I was pretty anxious about it, to be honest, I didn't know how readers would react, as there are so many devoted lovers of Rilla/Ken that I was afraid heads would roll... or just one particular head. ;-) as for Ken's attitude- next chapter will be devoted to that in large portion. I also love Shirley and I feel so bad for his being so neglected by LMM. I will be writing more about him in my post-war story... and let me just say, I'm glad you're warmed up towards the idea of Shirley and Persis. :-) and I know holiday is almost over, but let this be my New Year's gift for you!_

_oh, and again- the whole idea of a debate between Nan, Jerry and the Douglases was suggested to me by the nicest person in the world, known on this site as lena-jade._

* * *

"Well, well," Norman Douglas's bushy eyebrows emerged from behind his paper. "Look who's finally graced our humble abode with their presence."

Nan halted at the threshold, as Jerry approached Mr. Douglas who folded the paper and sprang to his feet. By way of greeting, he thumped Jerry's back with such might that his nephew leaned forward with a slight choke. Nan chuckled a little, which drew Norman's attention to her again.

"And she's not even ashamed for neglecting Ellen and myself like that! Look now if she is, giggling at any old thing. Ain't you sassy, little Blythe fidget!"

Nan tilted her head, moulding her lips into an ingratiating smile. Norman shook his finger at her, but replied with a disarmed grin.

"But that's what I like you for, after all. I vow you still have the spunk- luckily! I was afraid you'd lose some after a year away from the glen," he approached her and vigorously shook both of her hands. "Now, sit down, girl, and be civil."

Nan never managed to obey, as Mrs. Norman's entered the room briskly, lured by her husband's sonorant voice.

"Nan!" she exclaimed and bestowed two animated kisses on Nan's cheeks. "Finally!" she said with a little reproachful note to her voice and maneuvered her to sit on the settee next to Jerry. "Norman, why didn't you let our guest sit?"

"I did!" Norman protested hotly, sinking into his armchair and stretching his hand for his tossed paper.

"_Don't_ read it when we have company!" Mrs. Norman's instructed and wrestled it out of his fingers, despite his vehement scuffle. "I'll have the tea ready in a minute," she promised and left promptly, the daily triumphantly flying behind her impressive silhouette.

Norman followed her with an admiring eye, which gave him a comical look of a tamed lion satisfied in all departments of life. He stroked his beard; Nan noticed with a little sorrowful sliver, that it had become slightly grizzled in her absence. But his spirits were not changed and when he turned to her, his eyes were as atwinkle with tease as they ever had been.

"So then, fidget! How many children did you spank down there? All of them?"

"None!" Nan replied without much of her usual vigour. She still felt she had no cause to be proud of herself in that sphere. Norman, though, chalked it up to old Saint George, who jumped on her lap and demanded caress with persistent purring. He seemed to like Nan very well, too.

"So I've read. You were both in today's paper, together with some of your siblings," Mrs. Ellen said, re-entering the room with a scrumptious trayful.

"See!" Norman turned to Nan with a wry smile. "_I_ can't read the paper when you're here but my wife's already gone through the whole thing. How's that for equality in the house?"

Mrs. Ellen smirked and distributed the plates; Jerry and Nan got large portions of chocolate cake on theirs, but Norman was served the much coveted daily. This kept him quiet for some time, much to Nan's disappointment. Then he jerked his head and cast the paper away.

"Confound it!" he muttered and emptied his cup with one swallow. Then he reached for Nan's plate without as much as a question.

"Why aren't you eating, fidget? Here's some meringue for you, and some cream pie. I bet old Susan can't make anything like this- though she's been pining for the recipe for years now, hasn't she?"

"Oh, but I shouldn't," Nan protested faintly. "I have a dance to attend tomorrow- and I want my dress to fit."

Mrs. Ellen smiled companionably, but her husband was taking none of it.

"Don't talk so much, fidget, eat! Maybe it will put some meat on these bones. Girls these days seem to think that it is attractive to look as if the slightest puff could knock you over. It is one of all those things _I_ can't stomach about you saplings. Some shape- some strenght in a woman but no bones sticking out for me!"

Mr. Douglas was talking in excess, almost shouting in his animation, but he kept eyeing the paper with hostility.

"Can I see it?" Nan put her plate down, feeling quite overpowered by all the chocolate, cherries and meringue the Douglases had filled her with. "Jerry picked me up so early in the morning that I didn't even get a glance."

Norman cast it on her lap quite unlike a proper host and Mrs. Ellen's brow knitted reproachfully. Nan leafed through to 'foreign parts' as Susan always called them. She read through the notes swiftly- then paled a little- and helplessly put it down on her kees.

"This- this is insanity," she pronounced gravely.

"I suppose, though, we shouldn't be too surprised," Jerry turned to her and pushed away Saint George, who had jostled in between them on the narrow settee. "After the Archduke was murdered, it was only a matter of time."

Nan shook her head, desperately trying to deny everything. If she were to be honest, though, she would have to admit that Jerry's arguments and news from overseas convinced and scared her more every day. It was more than easy to forget about some of the disturbances while chatting all night long with Di, until Jem banged his fist on the wall to make them stop- or cooking for Shirley with Susan- or scheming with Mother to convince Susan to get rid of those dreadful calceolarias. But now, after the horrid assasination in Serbia, and with Austria- Hungary seeking support of Germany in an errand which could only be feared, she was brought back to earth rather rapidly and relentlessly.

"Europeans!" Norman boomed, looking as if he wanted to spit right on the patterned carpet.

"Austria- Hungary is to give Serbia an ultimatum," Jerry said, reading over Nan's shoulder and she clung to his words.

"So maybe there is still some hope. It can't be possible that every person in the entourage is in favor of war!"

"Oh, it can very well be so," Mrs. Ellen said forcefully. "Austria- Hungary has been waiting for years for an opportunity like that. Serbia has too much to say in Bosnia, dear. And the assassination will do very nicely as an excuse."

"I know that, but- but they want to try diplomacy first! I mean, the ultimatum- Serbians could accept it," she turned to Jerry, her eyes desperately seeking confirmation. Jerry merely looked at her and, despite wishing fervently that he could do something to preserve the faint hope which illuminated her face for a while longer, he shook his head, feeling compelled to be honest.

"Accept it, forsooth!" Norman boomed with rage; he refrained from striking the table in the last possible moment. "I can already see that ultimatum! If them Serbians had only an ounce of dignity they wouldn't take it- and they have heaps. _I_ wouldn't take it and never thought twice 'bout it!"

"Austria- Hungary is more than sure to interfere in military and politics- but _I_ wouldn't put it past them to target education, too," Jerry frowned, unwittingly mimicing his uncle's usual way of speaking and Nan covered a smirk. "And also, perhaps, civil administration. The more nitpicking they are, the more Serbia will rebel. So they will try to make it impossible to accept."

Nan understood it all; she had known all that before, so she needed no explanation from Jerry now. But hearing him say it so undeterringly made it all seem more real- and closer, as if the conditions of peace were to be read in church by Mr. Meredith next Sunday. Would_ she_ agree to them, if they were to change her home, her safe haven in Four Winds?

No- no. She couldn't let that happen. And yet- if it were to influence so many lives and so many homes other than just her own? Nan's imagination took over her and she divorced herself from the animated discussion which carried on among the rest of them. What would she do, if the lot of so many other people lay in her hands as it now lay in those of the Serbians?

With a flinch, she responded to Norman's resounding voice.

"And now they're sending ambassadors to that Kaiser devil to make sure he'll back them up- damned bastards! _I'd_ like to send an ambassdor to them with a word or two!"

Nan examined the picture in the paper; the infamous whiskers were visible at a glance.

"He looks a lot like Whiskers-on-the-moon to me," Jerry said, following the course of Nan's eyes.

There was a certain undertone to how they all laughed, it must be admitted, which would make Mr. Pryor sulk considerably. Then Nan spoke again, rather shyly, for she knew the opinion which the Douglases held of the German Emperor. Everybody in the Glen who ever cared to listen knew it, after all.

"Why, Kaiser does not have to agree."

Mrs. Ellen contrived to express all her disapproval in just one look.

"Lord love you, girl, what are you saying?" Norman could not help but ask. "Ellen, did you add rum to the tea? Now, do not you kick me in the shins!"

Mr. Douglas had been saying thins like that all his life and Nan was used to it, so she didn't mind. She smiled at Mrs. Ellen to set her at ease, but met with more condemnation still.

"Why, Nan- we've talked about Kaiser so many times. I've told you-"

But Nan broke in quickly, too animated with the discussion to realize she was being rude.

"I know, Mrs. Ellen! But maybe, just maybe, he isn't as black as you paint him. It's hard for me to imagine anyone being so diabolical- and you can't acuse _me_ of shortage of imagination!"

"Well, it is hard to imagine that Britain is not prepared to fight in a war, if it were to come," Mrs. Ellen retorted a bit loftily. "And yet, it is true."

"Now, what are _you_ saing, woman?" Norman bugged his eyes out at this revelation.

"It is not- and neither are Russia or France," Mrs. Ellen pronounced it as if it was unassailable. "England has no army. Granted, they weren't foolish enough to neglect the navy, but compared to Germany, they have nothing. Because Kaiser has been preparing himself for it ever since he first sat on the throne, with those cocked up whiskers of his! You can glare at me all you want, Norman, it's enough that you can't deny it."

"If they are not prepared," Nan asked, feeling her comprehension gone, "why should they plunge into it? They must know it will be their ruin."

"Or- their greatest gain," Mrs. Ellen said emphatically.

"Russia will protect Serbia, Germany will support Austria- Hungary- and so the rest of Europe will follow suit," Jerry explained slowly. "If Germany gets the opportunity to attack France, it will undoubtedly do so. And this will be enough for Britain to join-"

But Nan interrupted him exasperatedly, throwing both hands in the air, as if poor Jerry was to blame for the commotion overseas.

"And this is what I can't understand!" she cried despairingly. "Why should any other countries be involved? It is between Serbia and Austria- Hungary. But why drag Russia into it? Why let such- such evil spread? Why couldn't England remain neutral? "

Norman Douglas sprang to his feet.

"So that's what you'd want, fidget, eh? You'd like England to leave old France in the lurch- that's what you'd want, eh?"

He had forgotten himself; Nan was one of his favorites, so the thought of her being less staunchly patriotical than himself stung him. Red Rose wouldn't be caught dead saying things like that! Jerry looked at his uncle anxiously, ready to intervene for Nan's sake.

It appeared, though, that she needed no help. She stood up to face Mr. Douglas, and her usually soft and demure eyes were now fit to cast bolts. She tossed her head a bit haughtily and replied in lofty tones.

"It is _not_ what I would like- for my country to be involved in anything cowardly, Mr. Douglas. You won't see _me_ thick as thieves with Whiskers-on-the-moon any time soon, rest assured. If England was to fight, I wouldn't utter half a word to dissuade any of my brothers. But this war is not foregone yet! And if there are now three more orphans in Austria- Hungary, after the assassination- how many will there be in Europe if this war breaks out? Should we- should we encourage it now, when there's still a chance to nip it in the bud? Even if we have to accept certain conditions laid by Austria- Hungary, or even that horrid Kaiser himself- isn't it worth it, if we preserve peace?"

Her breath was quickened; she drew herself up after her last question and defiantly looked into Norman's eyes. Jerry looked up at her admiringly and even Mrs. Ellen sighed, as Norman sank back into his armchair and began to stroke his beard silently.

"Well, you gave it to him now, didn't you!" she said with a touch of satisfaction. "Norman, you behaved scandalously."

"Oh, I wasn't any better," Nan pleaded his case for him, as he did not vouchsafe to reply with anything more than a fiery glare. "Speaking up like that- I am lucky Susan did not see me! And, speaking of Susan, I must go- she wanted me to buy some fish down in the harbour."

She was glad that no one protested and that Jerry rose instantly and followed her to the door. Mr. Douglas remained in his seat, for all his wife's glares, and it hurt Nan deeply. But she hid it, as always, and hurried to leave the house. But as she was putting her hat on, he suddenly emerged from the pantry, bearing a big basket which he plumbed into her hands.

"Take some pie with you, fidget. I said old Susan can't make anything like it- and I stand by it. I am sorry, fidget. Man can't say fairer. You won't see _me_ sulking at you. I shouted- you gave me some tit for tat- and to hell with that! Now, give us a smile, fidget."

Nan obeyed his commands with all honesty.

"But Mr. Douglas- this is too heavy. I won't be able to carry it!"

"I will," Jerry took the basket from her and grinned. "And we'll make sure it gets lighter on the way, won't we?"

They walked out into the sweet, resinours air of a July afternoon. They headed for the harbour; Jerry reached into the basket every once in a while and eagerly binged on the pie.

"How can you still eat?" Nan raised her eyebrows.

"How can you not?" Jerry retorted teasingly, fishing out a meringue. "Besides, it's easy for you to say, having stayed with your Aunt, who cooked for you all year. I was the one who had to put up with Jem's cooking- or, worse still, my own."

"_You_ cooked?" Nan couldn't help a giggle. "I wish I could see that!"

"Don't," Jerry counseled facetiously. "That is, unless you want to experience Aunt Martha's ditto once again. Remember how she used to give it to you and Di whenever you came to visit us? I don't think I will ever forget how miserable you always looked then! I tell you, Nan, I was so frightened when I saw what I had concocted that I vowed I'd never cook again in my life. It must be a family curse."

Nan laughed and then fell silent, her eyes seeking the hem of soft, gray sees as they entered the Hourbour Mouth. Knowing her habits well, Jerry did not interrupt her reverie and was quite content to just walk on beside her; although quite disgruntled at all the looks which were fired at her from everyone around. He set his jaw, thinking the Harbour lads had some nerve, eyeing Nan so ostentatiously.

"And since you've mentioned it," Nan suddenly spoke, forcing him to stop glaring at one of them, "I had letters from Jack and Delia. It looks like Jack won't be able to come and visit us in the summer, unfortunately."

Jerry did not answer; if he was to be impartial, he would have to admit that Jack had seemed rather likeable back in Avonlea. But he could not help but be glad that he wouldn't have to watch him and Nan embracing again any time soon.

"Even he wrote to me about the war," Nan shook her head with a little sorrowful quirk at the corners of her mouth. "And if you could see _how_ he wrote it! 'My child dream of becoming a soldier might come true after all, Blythe'! I don't see how you boys can be so _excited_ about it."

"We? I'm not excited."

"Jem certainly is. He devours the paper every morning now- and Walter is as gloomy as a rainy day whenever anyone speaks of the war. He can't go, you know, after this typhoid. Oh, but what am I saying- as if they had to go!"

Jerry decided to spare Nan his initial reflection that they might have to make the choice quite soon, and merely closed the now- empty basket. They shared the last piece of meringue and walked on in silence for a while. Nan's eyes acquired their faraway, distant quality and it surprised him when she broke the silence with sudden decision.

"Jerry- you said you were not excited- but _would_ you go? If you had to, if this war was to happen?"

He looked into her silently pleading eyes. It only lasted a moment, though, as he unswered unhesitatingly, with all honesty.

"Yes, I'd go."

"Oh, that you would!" Nan exclaimed and turned her head away. Yet, although her words seemed reproachful, there was not a iota of it in her voice. He smiled wryly.

"You should have added that it was just like a man of me at the end of that," he said, lowering his head a little. "Then you would have sounded just like Mrs Elliot!"

"And you're joking again, of course," she answered half- exasperatedly and half- fondly, letting herself be taken by the arm. "Be serious, Jerry. Do you take your life so lightly? Wouldn't you stop to consider your father or Faith and Una or your- your friends?" her voice quivered slightly at the end of the list.

"I have considered all that already," he answered and his brow troubled, as her eyes instantly took on a pained look. "But I would still go- I'd have to. Because I also have considered other fathers, sisters and friends-"

Was it just her rampant imagination or did he stress this last word specifically?

"I have considered those who are to come, who are to live here as we have up till now. I don't necessarily _want_ to go. It doesn't seem the adventure of a lifetime to me. I think of it more as of going to fulfill my duty, to fight for what I believe in. Remember what you said about not allowing evil to spread?"

She merely nodded in response.

"I think this war might be a very extreme way of doing just that. Of course, it would be better to accomplish that with democracy," he said quickly, seeing how eager she was to protest. "I agree with you on that, Nan, of course I do! But I don't think it is possible at this point."

She shook her head miserably, avoiding his eyes.

"The Kaiser wants 'breathing room' for his empire... So we'll just have to make sure he gets none!"

Nan smiled, disarmed with the vast amount of defiance in his voice. Then she complained,

"I'm so torn, Jerry! You'd go- you'd all go and leave us, girls, here to darn socks, send you cookies and go stark, riving mad in the process. And yet, I can't help thinking it would be the right thing to do. Oh, I know you're right- but I would like you to be wrong so!"

"Well, that isn't very different from our usual state of affairs now, is it?" he asked rather insolently and she smacked him on the shoulder with all her might.

"You're unbearable, really," she said with pretended resentment, pinching his arm.

As she was about to retort with something decidedly unproper for a doctor's daughter to say, her eyes suddenly caught a familiar figure among the passers-by and she stopped nailed to the ground. Jerry's eyes followed hers but they only met a tall and thin girl he had never seen before. She had a mop of fiery red curls, and her clothes indicated she was one of the Harbour folk. Jerry was not one to notice that she had ears lying nice and flat against her head, very much like that of Dr Blythe, but he did notice that her bold, greenish- gray eyes sized Nan up quite meaningfully, with vicious kind of amusement. Then she stuck out her tongue, snickered and disappeared among her companions.

"Who was that?" he frowned, confused and even a little irritated at this sudden display of hostility.

Nan's eyes fled aside.

"How should I know?"

He shook his finger at her.

"Tell it to the marines," he counseled her playfully, raising one eyebrow.

"Alright, then," she turned to him ostentatiously. "That was Cass Thomas."

"And?"

Nan resumed their walk at a faster pace, slightly pulling at his arm.

"And what else would you like to find out, _Jerry_? I don't know if she has a beau if that's what interests you," she said innocently, "but I do know her father is rather hard to please-"

She would have loved to go on teasing him, for he turned rather vividly red, but he stopped suddenly, caught her elbow and made her face him.

"Nan, if you don't tell me- I will have to reconsider the promise I made to you and tell Jem about that time in Queens when you and Faith went out to town with those colleague of yours- what was his name again?"

Nan wrenched her arm away and sent him a slightly anxious look, at which he burst out laughing.

"Fine," she huffed and shrugged her shoulders to give herself a careless air. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise you won't laugh!"

"You know I can't promise that," he answered, laughing still, but raising his hand as if taking an oath. "But I vow I'll try my best!"

Nan told him the whole story, with good deal of reluctance, hesitation and blushing. At times he had to tease out some additional details from her and she was quite vexed at how good he was at discerning when she was omitting the most embarrassing parts of the story of Dovie Johnson. It might have been just another among many do-you-remembers of Ingleside, but she knew she would always be ashamed to be reminded of it. And Jerry's knowing about it gave him a big advantage in teasing her- as if he didn't know the arcana well enough already!

When she finished, he did not laugh- but he grinned so significantly than she could only sigh angrily.

"Oh, go on, laugh all you want. I know I was silly and gullible and that I don't know people."

Much to her surprise, he shook her head.

"You've misread me compeletely now. I want to laugh, granted, but not at your story."

"No?" she asked; her utter incomprehension gave her face such a funny look that Jerry simply had to laugh this time.

"Not at all. What I mean is that even now you still don't see how well this story speaks about you!"

Nan stopped and looked at him, her eyes aglow with expectations about what he was to say.

"Deciding to eschew all your 'rights', as you called them, and to give them to someone who rightfully deserved them, when being the only one in the know... Not many people would afford to do something so selfless. That indicates a very strong sense of justice... underneath that vicious tease we see usually!"

It seemed so puzzling to her that she didn't even pay attention to his last picking words. She fell silent and only looked at him, furrowing her brow.

"It was quite exceptional," he said openly, disarming her fully.

"I've never thought about it that way," she admitted, quite dissatisfied with herself for being so- _satisfied_ with his approval. Luckily, they had reached the tiny mongers and she could get away, entering through the door which he held open for her.

They came back tardily, either one of them having no intention of hurrying back. When they reached the fork in the road, where Jerry was to part, he offered her to stay for supper at the manse, where Faith was despairing in the kitchen all days long, as Rosemary had firmly set her mind to teaching her.

"I'd love to- but I promised Di I would help her with the dress for tomorrow. She's wearing her blue taffeta and it always crumples so dreadfully. "

If Jerry was in the least disappointed, he did not show it. He merely bid her farewell and wended his way towards the manse. And Nan was glad to see him disappear among the bushed for her cheeks, her face, her neck, her whole body seemed to burn with shame. This once, Jerry did not spot her fib.

For she had lied more glibly than ever before. She had made plans to spend the evening with Ken and she instinctively felt she shouldn't tell Jerry about it- she didn't want him to be angry at her again, when she was enjoying their renewed closeness so much. But now, catching glimpses of Jerry's white shirt among the dark pines, she suddenly found herself wishing she could accompany him instead of going on another walk with Kenneth.

But that, in turn, left her feeling terribly disloyal and ungrateful towards her old chum; and so, when he arrived to pick her up, she flew down the stairs and, with the nicest of her smiles, she professed her eagerness for another moonlit ramble.

Moments after, Di burst into the kitchen.

"Susan, did Nan and Ken leave already?"

Susan confirmed with a disapproving mutter which did not bode Nan too well.

"That girl will catch her death, running around the woods at such an hour in those light muslin of hers! And with no hat! One'd think Leslie West's son would have more sense than to drag her around so! You could talk to your sister, Di dear, maybe she'll listen to-"

But Susan never go to finish, as the other Ingleside twin ran out of the house.

"_And_ with no hat!" Susan muttered to herself, wiping the vessels furiously.

Diana crossed the Rainbow Valley quite warily, looking around for Nan and Ken. She turned her skirt over her shoulders, careful not to soak it on the damp grass, and reached the manse in a heartbeat. She knocked on the door, hoping that nothing would disrupt the customs of the manse and that Jerry would be the one to open it, as usual. She certainly did not want any observers, and the manse crowd was almost as apt to arrive at all the wrong times, as the Ingleside folk were.

"Di?" Jerry's voice rang with surprise. "I wasn't aware that Susan lets you girls out so late."

"She doesn't. I have to hurry."

"But you've just missed Faith, she went out with Jem. And if you're here to see Una, she's just gone to sleep. Bruce's been running the poor girl off her feet all day long."

But Diana only shook her head impatiently.

"I came to see you. And, as I've said, I'll have to make myself succint. I know this isn't the done thing around here, but I came to ask you whether you would like to go to the Parkers' dance with me tomorrow."

Jerry looked rather shocked- then he shuffled his feet uncomfortably.

"I- why, thank you for the invitation, Di! But I don't think-"

She merely rolled her eyes, while interrupting him in an utterly indifferent voice.

"Nan is going with Ken."

She raised one of her thin, shapely eyebrows, as Jerry's black ones shot up his forehead and then furrowed crossly. He stood on the manse threshold, looking decidedly thrown off the scent and Di relinquished this moment with satisfaction, knowing how rare they happened.

"I might take you up on your offer- if it still stands," he spoke finally, haltingly drawling his words.

"Very well. I'll be wearing-"

"Blue taffeta," he broke in drearily, surprising her. "Will violets do?"

"Yes. We're leaving Ingleside around six o' clock," she turned on her heel.

"Di, wait!"

Impatiently, she waved her hand at him.

"What is it, Jerry?"

"Why would you do that?" he asked demandingly.

Di was silent for a while, looking aside.

"Nan's been away for long. She doesn't notice things _I_ notice, having been around Rilla for a year and gotten to know her better. She may hurt Baby without knowing, and I'm sure she wouldn't want that."

He nodded his head without a word; he understood the sense behind her guarded words and she couldn't help feeling her approval for him grow slightly.

"And also, Jerry- I remember how miserable Nan was in December, after you quarreled. And I don't want to see her so hurt ever again. So take care that you do not make the same mistake twice, Jerry, because then you and Jem might just have a rather unpleasant conversation," unknowingly, she set her jaw stubbornly.

Jerry laughed and, much to her surprise, his voice betrayed friendliness.

"Point taken. I'll see you tomorrow, then, Di."

She picked up her skirts.

"Don't be late."


	24. Moonlit drama

_Author's Note: my finals are over, so- here it is. I cannot believe I made it this far, for this is really the last chapter, aside from the little epilog I'm going to upload in a day or two. I don't know if I had ever been more anxious to know what you think. I'm only half- pleased with it, but I've had the turn of events in my head for so long now that I just couldn't change it. I'm sorry if it is too much to bear._

_as for the formalities: the underlined parts are quotes from LMM's 'Rainbow Valley' and 'Anne of Ingleside'. oh, and Jerry's middle name is slightly bizarre, I know; it is supposed to work as in Carl's case- I thought it would be nice if both Meredith sons were named after famous figures. _

_now, on to what I enjoy most: _

_Ann: it felt so nice and chummy to read a review like this in the midst of my exams! I'm sorry it took so long, but this time it wasn't my fault, at least not that much. you can blame my university. :-) _

_Anne, Elia: thank you both for another batch of reviews! it feels so nice to have a more continuous contact with readers who are painstaking enough to leave a review. as I've promised- here is the climax. _

_Hediru: thank you so much for your kind words! I am really tickled pink that you read through the whole thing. as for your question about Ken's feelings for Nan: there is some explanation in this chapter and as for how he's going to fall for Rilla... I think LMM herself did a good job with that aspect of the plot. since it was only at the lighthouse dance that Ken noticed Rilla as a grown-up girl, I thought I was free to 'utilize' him in a story which takes place before those events. _

_oh, and I'd like to thank all of those who had ever left a review and thus helped me enormously with writing this story. this is the first story I actually managed to finish and I wouldn't be here now, writing to you about this, if you had not supported me through the whole process. I have so many wonderful things to thank for: so many suggestions, reminders and even information from books I could not access! but what I'm mostly thankful for are the PMs I have exchanged with some of you. it gave me such a good feeling of making friends on the site... and I could never thank you all enough for that. _

_but, there, I'm dragging it on terribly. I'll let you go on and read- and I'm off to bite my nails now, waiting for your opinions._

* * *

Ingleside was strangely quiet on the day of the Parkers' dance.

"This shouldn't be surprizing, though," Anne Blythe remarked to herself, leaning on the wall in her still-girlish way, as she waited for the five sevenths of her children to come down. She loved observing their departures into the countless nights filled with joys of youth. They were still hers- hers to fix tie knots and to help with choosing the fripperies- or, in Rilla's case, to coax their sulking with a promise of a new dress.

Just then, however, something was different. Jem took much longer with his hair than usually, then burst out of the house to head for the manse. Walter, on the other hand, didn't seem all too eager to leave Ingleside, sitting with Miss Oliver and Rilla over Susan's cream puffs. What was mostly unusual, though, was the fact that the twins had not gotten together to brainstorm over fashion linguistics._ That_ seemed slightly worrying.

As if by a spell, a dancy patter played on the staircase. Anne watched with a certain dose of pride as Nan waltzed her way to the mirror and started putting finishing touches on her hair. She had had the curlers on for the night, which resulted in slight dark rings under her eyes and soft, thick waves on her dark hair. She had pinned some of them up, letting the rest dance at her slender waist, and was now weaving masses of wild rosebuds at the back of her head. Anne's careful eyes recognised flowers from the garden of the House of Dreams; Ken Ford apparently had an eye for colors.

Nan finished, examined herself again and smiled at the reflection, slightly lifting her chin and straightening her back. She tucked the only full-blown flower at her belt, and turned to Anne, biting her lip.

"How is it, Mother?"

Anne smiled and approached her daughter.

"You are a rose, Nan- a little, full- blown, lovely rose," she said, putting her arm around Nan's waist and turning around to look at both of them in the mirror.

"You've always had such a way of telling compliments," Nan smiled at her warmly, returning the embrace. "I could never feel I look bad when I go to a dance, with you always telling me such things! Little wonder people say I'm full of myself!"

Anne had turned her mind to more earthbound matters.

"I'm so glad I have one daughter who can wear pink," she said jubilantly. "It makes up for the fact that I was never able to wear it myself. But as soon as my hair turns gray- oh, what a prospect!- I'm going to buy myself a pink dress. And you must promise me, darling, you won't try to stop me because of my age!"

"I'll help you choose the shade," Nan laughed warmly. "I must go and show myself to Susan now."

But Nan was stopped by a knock on the front door. She went to open it- and she faced Ken who looked at her, took a step back and shook his head with a smitten look on his face. She smiled at him, satisfied with the reaction, and lowered her head as her cheeks were beginning to blush.

"Why, Nantucket! You look stunning- you _are_ stunning!" Ken's voice lowered with the last words.

"Thank you," she found herself whispering back.

It was almost time to leave. Walter stepped in and greeted Ken joyfully- then frowned slightly when Jem brought in laughing Faith. Shirley came down quietly; he looked so grown-up in his new suit that Nan suddenly felt an urgent desire to put him back in his overalls. W_hy_ would little brown boys like Shirley grow up so fast? She fondly fixed an unruly streak of hair for him.

"Will you come to the rescue when I end up alone, without any dance partners?"

"Oh, sure. Because it happens to you a lot," he sneered.

They all laughed; Shirley had been included in their group fairly recently, ever since he and Carl went to Queens together, and he was a welcome addition even if he spoke so rarely!

"Don't worry, Nantucket. I think my ankle will let me do a hop or two."

"Aren't you straining it a little, Ken? You should be more careful with a contusion like this," Jem growled unpleasantly, sending him a rather grave look. He liked Ken very well for his own merits but somehow having him around Kitten so often, with those tomcat ways of his, didn't appeal to him. "Where _is_ Di?" he asked irately.

There was another knock on the door and Nan, still smiling at the compliment which Ken had just whispered in her ear, opened it-

"J- Jerry? What are you doing here?"

A swish of taffeta harbingered the arrival of the other Ingleside twin.

"He is picking me up," Diana said matter-of-factly, walking down the stairs.

Jerry waved a posy of violets as if to confirm. He was wearing a smart, dark- gray suit which accented his surprizingly wide shoulders. Standing so close, she could not overlook how handsome he looked. She couldn't bear to look at him too long, for he was persistently looking in her eyes, and she saw disappointment and bitterness in his candid face. She didn't know what had caused it- could he have gotten the wind of her silly little fib? But that was impossible, she was the only one who knew about the whole mishap. Then, Jerry glared somewhere over Nan's head- more or less where Ken was standing by her side. More likely, this was her explanation. But then- he had no substance to be mad! She did not deserve any of this frowning or acrimonious smirks! She hadn't made any promises, nor had she given him any false impressions. He had not asked for them, in the first place!

Unexpectedly, the thought stung her deeply. She hung her head low, partly because of shame she was feeling despite her own ardent persuasions and partly because of a smarting kind of hurt, utterly new to her. She gasped for breath slightly, and it was only then that she heard a little grunt behind her.

Burning with shame, she promptly stepped aside to make way for Di. Her twin smiled at Jerry and took over the violet posy.

Jem understood nothing. He stood beside Faith, gaping in sheer surprise. His eyes wandered from one sister to another, then to his best friend. What was this smug expression on Di's face supposed to mean? Why was Jerry so grim- and why was he taking Di to the dance, for crying out loud?

"Shall we go now? Since _everything_ is sorted out?" he asked rather cuttingly.

Walter and Shirley were already outside, fleeting the pregnant silence. The girls put on their old shoes; Lowbridge was six miles away from the Glen and Jem had ordained a walk to the Parkers' house.

"You look beautiful, Di," Nan said quietly, putting her dancing slippers in a bag which Ken took over from her.

"Ditto," her twin smiled brightly and gave her own bag to her partner.

They left the Glen paired off. Ken was telling Nan something about a book or a motion picture- she couldn't register what exactly, somehow. Her attention was compelled by her sister, walking a few steps before them. She and Jerry were talking animatedly, in low voices. Nan wondered, with a sliver of resentment, what could have been so funny as to send them laughing so loud?

Suddenly, Ken snapped his fingers in front of her face.

"You're not listening to me at all."

Nan smiled apologetically.

"I'm sorry. I got distracted."

Ken's eyes followed hers.

"Quite a surprise, isn't it?"

Nan couldn't think of a proper reply, so she made do with an undecipherable mutter. Ken patted her hand.

"You and Di haven't been talking much recently, have you?" he asked and Nan sighed, only then realizing he was right. Ken was usually right; he was always so observant. She hadn't been spending enough time with Diana, who had grown a little secretive in her absence- and here was the result!

Ken looked at her attentively.

"Don't worry about it now, Nantucket. You don't usually go to parties with a miserable pout like that. The Parkers are going to feel offended. And we certainly wouldn't want that, would we?"

Nan laughed a little. If there was anyone to make her enjoy this dance, it was Ken. And there he was, right by her side!

* * *

Nan would never expect to come across a fairy at the Parkers' abode, but they were greeted by one. She was standing at the threshold, smiling at at the Glen crowd as if she had known them all her life. She had eyes as soft and blue as the violets in the Hollow and the loveliest ripples of golden curls all over her head. She was wearing a yellow dress with countless little frills on the skirt, which made her look like a dancing buttercup.

As she was greeting Jem exuberantly, Walter halted at the stairs, quietly drinking in her golden loveliness. A slight smile wandered around his still boyish lips. The girl noticed his gaze and approached him with decision, as Nan and Ken were catching up.

"Do come in. I'll show you how to play jackstones," she said with a meaningful smile.

Walter responded with a laugh.

"What about lending me your plush kangaroo- can I still count on that?"

They entered the house, leaving Nan and Ken quite astounded.

"And you say _I'm_ a lady-killer," Ken was the first one to recover from their puzzlement. "What was that all about?"

Nan laughed aloud.

"How do I know? Plush kangaroos have always been beyond me, I'm afraid."

They went in to find a veritable throng of people in the parlor. The party had started long ago, as most guests were from Lowbridge. Nan felt heartened up at the sounds of the violin. Unknowingly, she swayed to the melody, which could not escape Ken's notice.

"M'am?" he stretched out his hand.

"No, Ken," she protested hotly. "Jem said you should be more careful and _I_ am going to make sure you do."

Ken grabbed her hand and firmly pulled her to the dance floor.

"I don't give a fig for what Jem said. _I_ want to dance with you today!" he spun her around and she couldn't help a cheerful little laugh. Her feet performed the steps as of themselves. "And you won't convince me you wouldn't like a waltz- or two- or-" Ken started scribbling all over her book.

She laughed again, seeing he had claimed almost all her dances.

"Don't be greedy, Kenneth," she ordered, but took his hand.

She threw herself into the party whole-heartedly, almost succeeding in forgetting that Jerry and Di were somewhere among the masses of laughing young people. She danced her second and third dance with Jem, as she knew he would disappear after the first few; Faith could not dance even in Lowbridge and was always very bitter about it. Jem, however, had his ways to sweeten her sorrow so she waited patiently.

Then, Nan danced with Shirley who looked positively aghast at the overwhelming noise. She looked around for her third brother, but Walter was dancing with Alice. They both seemed to be on the best of terms- and the contrast between Alice's sunny figure and Walter's dark one resulted in a beautiful image. Nan stood purposeless for a while, gazing at them. Then somebody carried her away- Andy Parker, of all people! Nan felt sure that he had, as had been rumored, gotten engaged for he was so unusually nice and amiable that the dance was _almost_ pleasurable. She felt relief, though, when Ken walked up to her again. _He_ didn't step on her feet.

"You've lost the pout," he remarked with satisfaction.

"How could I not? The whole world, you at the forefront, seems so bent on my enjoyment," she laughed and then looked around. "Is Walter dancing another one with Alice?" she whispered confidentially.

Ken nodded his head and Nan fluttered with excitement, as he spun her around so that she could see for herself.

"They make a beautiful couple, don't they?"

Ken smirked a little.

"Yes, exquisite," he replied teasingly. Nan wanted to playfully slap his shoulder, but as he was taking a step back to the music, it turned out almost a caressing gesture. Ken looked at her peculiarly and stepped closer to whisper in her ear. "And it will do Walt good after-" he stopped suddenly.

"After what?" Nan lowered her voice.

"Nothing. No, don't even try to worm it out of me, Nantucket!" he lifted one finger in a prohibiting gesture, seeing that her curious nature was getting the better of her. "I can't tell you."

Nan smiled at him ingratiatingly, but he only shook his head.

"I can't tell you, Nan. It's not my secret!"

They danced in silence for a while and Ken began to worry a little. Nan wasn't usually this silent.

"You- aren't mad at me, are you? Because I would have told you if it only concerned myself, but-"

But Nan interrupted him vigorously.

"Of course not, don't be silly! It's exactly what I like about you. If it's a secret, I understand," she assured him.

Ken suddenly stood in his tracks; his features wavered in a painful expression.

"Your ankle!" Nan cried despairingly. "And it's my fault _again_! At this rate, you'll be out of football untill the very end of your studies! For your own sake, Ken, you should stay away from me."

Ken grinned, as Nan was taking him under the arm.

"Quite the contrary. When Jem finds out about this, he will bully me. So I gather I should stick with you so that you can mollify him when the time comes."

"Stop making me laugh," Nan snapped, leading him to a sofa. "I'm trying to be mad at you."

"Let's go to the terrace. It's quite stuffy here, I could use some fresh air."

Nan saw no connection between a strained ankle and fresh air, but she was determined to make Ken feel better. She maneuvered her way among dancing pairs; on the way she registered Alice telling her that a friend had been asking about her, but she only muttered impatiently in response.

Ken sat on the balustrade.

"Don't worry about it so much, Nan. It's better now."

"Oh, I'm sure it is," she snorted caustically. "Stretch your leg, Jem has told me it's good for you. You are going to spend the rest of the evening here, whether you like it or not," she admonished so peremptorily that Ken had to laugh.

"I'll like it well enough if you stay with me."

"And there you go, turning on your charm again!" she said, hiding her face so that he couldn't see her faint smile. "Of course I'll stay with you, since I'm the one who caused all the trouble. You should be more careful," she pleaded, slapping his hand. "You're exacerbating it thoughtlessly."

"On the contrary, I'm exacerbating it with a purpose."

"How's that?"

"I wanted to cheer you up, since you seemed so mournful about Di."

"Oh, so you thought dancing with you and you alone was what I needed to feel better? How modest," she teased, causing him to laugh. For a while, they sat quietly in the purply darkness of a PEI night.

"Thank you," Nan said abruptly, and almost inaudibly. She did not want to spoil the spell of dusk, but she had to tell him that. "It's been a good night, after all- only thanks to you."

Ken laid his hand on the slender, girlish one resting on the rail.

"You're welcome. Nights like this are meant for the sheer joy of living, aren't they? I couldn't bear to watch you moping today."

Nan remained silent, watching their hands; she hadn't even noticed how their fingers had interlaced.

"Or, to be more precise, I couldn't bear to see your sorrow any day," his voice lowered.

"Mother would not agree with you. She always says life is not full without some trial and sorrow to enrich the spirit."

"That's a very grave life philosophy, quite unlike your Mother. And even less suitable for you or me, with our nineteen years of age."

"Kenneth Ford, the hedonist," Nan said, throwing up her hands in mock helplessness.

Ken laughed and slightly shook her hand, forcing her to stand up and face him.

"Would you have me believe that Nan Blythe is an ascetic? The same Nan Blythe who dances on the seashore when nobody is watching? Or the one who gets blisters on her feet at every party and yet never complains on her way home? _Or_ the one who marches with her head up in the evenings because she simply _cannot_ take her eyes off the moon?" he asked, repeating her own words from one of their walks.

Now, she had to laugh- but she stopped soon when Ken reached out his hand to fix a loose rosebud in her hair.

"No, I wouldn't lead you on so _deceitfully_."

Ken leaned in to look into her eyes.

"Good, because I wouldn't have believed you."

Nan drew a little breath, as his face was nearing hers. The moonlight brought out the barely visible half-smile on his lips. Was Ken going to- _kiss_ her? Everything around them was silent, silvery smooth and very still. When Ken shut his eyes, Nan felt her own eyelids coming down. Almost unintentionally, she closed her eyes-

And at the very moment, something else was thrown open. The door to the terrace.

"Nan?" a well-known voice pierced through Nan's ears. She recoiled hastily, putting her hands to her temples and shaking her head.

Jerry Meredith was standing on the threshold with only one foot. For a horridly long time, he remained motionless. His face was utterly blank. Inside, people were raising toasts for Andy had just announced his engagement.

Then, Jerry finally moved; he shook his head, set his jaw and turned around on his heel to burst out of the house without as much as a glance.

"No, Jerry, wait!" Nan cried promptly and picked up her long skirt to follow him. The door slammed behind the two of them. "Jerry, please!"

So there she was: the proud, queenly Nan Blythe, running after the parsons's son, asking him to stop, jousting on her own dress and shedding pink rosebuds from her untangled hair!

* * *

She ran for as long as she could, calling after him, but Jerry would not even look back at her. She gasped for breath and she felt she had to stop or she would have given up the ghost out of fatigue. She halted- stepped on the frill at the hem of her skirt- a whiz of silk being ripped reached her ears. That really _was_ the last straw.

She stamped her foot and balled her fists.

"Gerald _Griffin_ Meredith! You stop this instant!"

Jerry was so outraged at this exclamation that he did stop. He slapped his own legs out of sheer, blinding anger and turned around vehemently to walk up to her.

"What is it, Nan? What do you want from me now?"

At this point, however, Nan had run out of steam. _What_ was she supposed to say to him? She had run behind him without a moment of hesitation, she couldn't have done anything else. But what was she supposed to do now? This outburst was something new, something she had never seen from Jerry. It was frightening to think that she herself had caused him to grow so frantic.

"We- we should talk," she stuttered meekly.

Jerry's breath was still heavy with all the fury which had ignited in him not long before. Nan was standing in front of him pale, wide-eyed and visibly distressed, but she would not turn her head away or step back. Rather annoyingly, she looked indescribably beautiful even when her hair fell on her forehead in this disheveled way; every bit of a woodland naiad she was usually. But then, Ken Ford appeared right before his eyes, so close to Nan, spoiling the vision utterly. Jerry clenched his fists.

"If you need a heart-to-heart conversation about the happenings of the night, I'm afraid I'm not the right person. I would suggest Una or Di."

She recoiled a little, burning with resentment.

"You have no right to speak to me like this, Jerry._ I_ didn't resent you and Di coming here," she said quietly.

"Well, maybe it's because you didn't catch me and your sister talking so _intimately_, behind closed doors," he retorted. "Spare me your making believe, Nan, will you?" he turned away again.

Nan watched him go, almost physically fighting the hurt around her heart. To hear Jerry put it in such terms- it rankled. Nevertheless, she had to try one last time, despite the damage to her already tormented dignity.

"I don't understand, Jerry!" she cried after him and he stopped in his tracks. "Why should you be so mad- I don't-" she broke off, for he turned around rapidly and strode to her vigorously.

"Oh, you don't understand?" he asked curtly, through clenched teeth. Before she had time to protest, if she had wanted to do so, he took her face in both hands, bent his head and kissed her impetuously.

It was a short, abrupt and indelicate kiss- and, to Nan, it was indescribably electrifying. For Jerry soon got hold of himself and let her go. He took a step back, feeling more surprised and astir than Nan herself, probably. He couldn't see her face, as she hung her head low, and her messy hair curtained her face. Her shoulders were moving fast, with her bated breath. He run his fingers through his hair, feeling ashamed of himself. He deserved a slap; she should have slapped him long ago!

But she didn't- and Jerry had been vexed enough to ask sorely,

"Well? Has this made it any clearer as to why I should be so mad?"

He did not expect an answer, truth be told.

"No," Nan replied and her voice sounded- laughy, of all things on earth! He set his mouth firmly, vowing that he had to march away without a glance if he wanted to carry with him the last remnants of his pride. Then- she lifted her head and mumbled quietly, "Could you- maybe- repeat the main points?"

Jerry looked at her guardedly, before his lips curved into a grin of their own accord. But he couldn't help it; through the masses of her messy, dark waves he saw one eye, peeping at him slyly. They both laughed at the same time- quietly, but slightly deliriously. Jerry propped his forehead on hers and Nan's hands easily found their way into his.

They walked the six miles from Lowbridge to Glen St. Mary without an ounce of fatigue. On the way, Jerry repeated his points many times- just to make sure there were no _misunderstandings_.

They reached a fork in the road, where Nan suddenly stopped and pressed his hand.

"I have to go somewhere," she said quietly, hoping he would understand. Jerry frowned , looking at the path which led to Four Winds. "He has always been my friend- and not just mine. I have to see him and explain myself."

He sighed, but nodded in acquiescence.

* * *

Ken was sitting on the red sand-stone doorstep of the House of Dreams. When he saw her emerging from the trees, he nodded his head, as if he had been expecting her all along. She plopped down next to him.

"Did somebody give you a drive? I hope you didn't have to walk here?"

"Andy drove us all home. I happened to sit next to Jem and, Kitten, you're in for a proper dress-down."

Nan moaned and hid her face in her hands.

"And so is Jerry, I'm afraid. That's only a fair comeuppance, though. To think he had let you come here alone, at night!"

"He is waiting for me at the bend," she bit her lip.

He laughed quietly.

"Of course he is. Maybe Jem will spare him, then. But I don't think that very likely."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence, so unusual in this dear old house, where they had spent so many wonderful days.

"You left your shoes at the Parkers."

"Thank you," Nan took the bag, examined it and impulsively cast it away. She turned around so that she would face him. "Ken, I am so sorry if I gave you any wrong impressions. I didn't mean to, I just- I lost my-" she found herself at a loss for words. She wanted to talk openly to him, as always, but she also wanted to shield the little secret which she shared with Jerry.

"It's alright, Nantucket. I'm not blameless either."

"I hope it doesn't change yours and Walter's friendship?" she asked earnestly.

"Not one bit. The real question is, does it change ours?"

Nan looked at him expectantly.

"I- I wouldn't want that," she said firmly.

"You see, I made a mistake assuming I could act with you as I act with my other friends. I thought you and I could spend an enjoyable summer, and I overstepped the line."

Nan fell silent for a while. It was degrading to be equated so to all the Glen girls, and perhaps the ones in Toronto, whom she didn't even know? Her pride should have probably smarted much more with anyone else, causing her to walk away- but it was Ken, her oldest chum, who had pulled her hair and served as a dance partner when she and Di were learning to dance. She did not want to lose him.

"I forgot, Nantucket, how different you are from all of them. And I am sorry for that."

Nan smiled sincerely. She lay her head on his shoulder and Ken put his arm around her. It was only a chummy, brotherly embrace this time and she felt a glint of hope. In time, perhaps, they would be able to enjoy moments like this without those little darts of resentment. She wished for that- and she knew Kenneth wished it, too.

When she tilted her head a little, he laughed mockingly. He took up the bag with her shoes.

"Alright, go now. I can see you're dyingto run to that bend. And, Nantucket? Next time, you can tell Jerry to come in."


	25. Nan of Ingleside!

Nan plopped the last strawberry on the last one of her little pies. Then she stepped aside to make way for the ultimate culinary critic of Ingleside.

"Good enough," Susan pronounced the verdict. "It seems that your Aunt Diana did teach you well. But let _me_ top them with cream, pet. You need a steady hand to do that and you've ben particularly fidgety these past few days."

Nan exchanged amused glances with Mother, who had just stepped in with a bunch of peonies for Doctor's study. Taking her garden gloves off, she watched Na,n who didn't seem at all offended by Susan's patronage. It gave her time to take off her apron and check on her hair in the hallway mirror.

"By the way you prink and prim, one could think you were going for another dance," Susan's cousin Sophia disapproved in her usual moanful voice.

But Nan was too high-spirited to mind even cousin Sophia.

"It feels as if I were," she said chirpily, wrapping a pearlstring around her bun. "Isn't it a night made for dancing? At a pinch, Jerry's harmonica would do for accompaniament. And our glade by the spring would make a devine dancefloor! Not to mention we wouldn't get any blisters for once!"

"How so, girl?"

"Well, if the nymphs of our dear old Valley can wander around it barefoot, why should we suffer in slippers? They really _are_ a sore!"

Cousin Sophia's face expressed purest outrage.

"There were letters from Avonlea today," Mrs. Blythe said quickly, pointing to a small table.

Nan tore the envelope to shreds out of hurry and voraciously proceeded to read the letter. Then she laughed fondly.

"Before I begin the letter proper, I simply have to write this: Mother sends her warmest thoughts and feelings to Aunt Anne and plenty of kisses for you. There, it's done. Would you believe it, Nannie, that she wouldn't let me be about it ever since she found me scribbling to you?"

Mrs. Blythe smiled fondly, while Nan read on.

"And my own husband hasn't been any better. He's been bending my ears about sending greetings to 'his pal'. And Jack- oh, but if I go any further, this letter will become a litany of pass-ons- and where would my joy be in that? I'll make him write his own letter."

Nan read the letter out loud to Mother; almost all of it, as she skipped the part where Delia, in her usual teasing manner, expressed her hope that Nan's 'morose friend, whom she recalled visiting' had been cheered up by the summer weather. Nan vowed in thought to write the cattiest response she was capable of. Mrs. Blythe smiled sagely whenever her daughter pretended to struggle with the handwriting to omit some passages; _she_ knew well enough that Small Anne Cordelia, as she insisted on calling her, carefully rewrote all her letters before sending to make sure they were legible. She found out many interesting things, anyhow; little Tommy had two new teeth, Sarah had grown almost an inch, Ned was about to embark on another cruise, luckily a rather short one, and Little Fred and his wife were going to have a third wee one. _"And, would you believe it, Nannie, after all that boasting about his boys, Fred now says he will only accept a little girl!" _

Nan folded the letter, smiling thoughtfully and put it in her pocket. She would hide it in one of her pretty boxes later; at present she was impatient to run to the Valley and Susan was finally putting the finishing touches to their hamper. That is, she was furtively slipping in Shirley's favorite cookies, among the fruit pies.

"It's ready, Nan dear," she announced with a sly grin.

Nan suppressed a frantic giggle and left, but when Anne took to the verandah with a book, she found her daughter leaning on the railing, propping her chin on her hands, the basket carelessly thrown aside. She was looking out to the sun, which settled itself snugly in the highest branches of the trees in Rainbow Valley, picking up a golden glint here and there. But Anne knew that Nan wasn't merely marveling at the loveliness of it all; her eyebrows were knitted in the same dear, funny way as Gilbert's over medical periodicals.

"What is it, dear?" she asked, standing behind her girl. "Has something in Delia's letter upset you?"

"No," Nan responded quietly and then made a veritable pirouette to face her. "It just sort of woke my pining. I would love to see Jack so! And Delia, and Ned, and my Little Jack and- everyone! I just now understood that my days in Avonlea and over and done with, that I will now at best get accounts of the happenings, that I won't be a part of them anymore. I won't be there for Sarah when she goes to school for the first time- and Aunt Diana will have to do without me in the garden- and I won't see Tommy's third teeth coming out-"

"Taking into consideration how he most probably behaves with it erupting, I daresay you're better off here," Anne said humorously, causing her daughter to laugh.

"But then I looked at our Valley and I thought- and, Mother, it made me so ridiculously happy!- I thought that it's been perfectly lovely to be Nan of Lone Willow Farm for a whole year, but it's a thousand times lovelier to come back and be Nan of Ingleside!"

Anne laughed and kissed Nan's cheek.

"That's good to hear. But run now, before Shirley's cookies get cold," she said, proving her eyes were as watchful as Nan's own ones.

She did run- and she soon reached the glade where they were all gathered. Shirley and Carl, Di and Una, Walter and his poetry notebook. Jem was fishing with the assistance of Faith. If, of course, trying to push somebody into the bubbling waters of the brook could be considered assistance.

And there was Jerry, sitting on a fallen trunk on his own, having a go at his old harmonica. She gave the basket to the boys, who launched themselves to its contents and plopped down next to him. He lifted his head, smiled and handing something over with a clandestine gesture.

"It's fixed," he said quietly, so that Di's pricked up ears would not register his words. "And I hope there won't be any occasions for you to break it again."

Nan threw the golden chain around her neck; the well-known pink enamel heart nestled itself in the hollow in her throat yet again.

"So do I," she said honestly.

A loud ahem resounded behind their backs. Faith rolled her eyes impatiently, as Jem was wedging in between Nan and Jerry.

"What took you so long, Kitten?"

She indicated binging Shirley with a nod of her head.

"Chocolate cookies."

Una, Di and Faith settled themselves in the grass, beside the younger boys, stretched languidly. Walter suddenly perked up his head, smiled and joined their circle.

"Will Ken be coming today?"

"He'll be late," Nan answered. "He's walking Ethel Reese home."

At Walter's astounded expression, Jerry laughed and explained,

"We bumped into her at Carter Flagg's today. She practically blackmailed him into helping her carry the shopping. It is at times like these when I know I chose the right profession, you know."

The evening was slowly drawing on, and they were all happy with the loud, boisterous happiness of the youth. Nan felt a certain lighteness filling her to the tips of her fingers; a feeling she was getting used to now, after a few days. Every time she glanced at Jerry, she caught him already watching her. It was a very sweet routine to fall into.

She lay down in the grass next to Di.

"`God's in his heaven, all's right with the world,'" she whispered softly.

* * *

_there, it's done. I'm still quite incredulous. thank you all so much for being with me throughout writing and for being such help and inspiration again. _

_by the way, has anyone noticed the parallel between the first and the last title? ;-)_


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